


Anachronism

by thewordweaver



Series: Discontinued Kpop Works [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Mild Language, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 14:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8331904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewordweaver/pseuds/thewordweaver
Summary: "But it is one thing to read about dragons and another to meet them."- Ursula K. Le Guin, A Wizard of Earthsea





	1. once

**Author's Note:**

> hiya hello just reposting things that I had deleted from my old old very old asianfanfics account lmao  
> I am very much not really in the kpop scene anymore so these are just here for the sake of being here
> 
> so this is one of the few series that I had started back on aff.com that bc I'm not into the kpop fandom anymore... is discontinued  
> the a/n at the very end of the work will be me explaining where I was planning on going with this story from where I stopped it to the end of it  
> it will be this way with any other kpop series that I started and shown is discontinued
> 
> date originally posted on aff.com: mid 2013  
> {subsequent notes are from then as well except for the very very last note}

"And that was the last anyone ever saw of him." She closes the thin, worn book with both hands, which produces a sharp thumping sound. "So remember, children," she starts, rising from the ground, "never leave Blackburn alone at night, or else..." She stomps toward the children that had been sitting in a half-circle around her with her hands raised near her shoulders like claws. Upon realization, the children get up and run away, shrieking with laughter as she chases after them. She roars before snagging one, lifting him into the air before cradling him, pretending to eat him by rubbing her face into his stomach while creating growling noises. Figuring the "rampage" had finally ended, the children regroup and return to their half-circle around her after she sits down.

"Lily, have you ever been outside Blackburn alone at night?" one of the little girls ask, an inquisitive look upon her face.

"Goodness, no!" she sits down on the grass and the others follow suit. "That story doesn't just apply to children, love. If anyone is alone outside of Blackburn at night, the dragon will be sure to get them. Even the bravest of men would not _dare_ to venture out in those conditions." She tucks away the book into the front of her dress, making sure it is not visible from the outside.

"What about the travelers? Like the ones that come for festivals."

"It's still not very safe, but they aren't alone, so there's less risk. But the dragon usually strikes when you're by yourself..." She stands up again, hunched over and creeping slowly around the half-circle to the child who had asked the follow-up question. "And even when you've got sword or gun in hand, thinking you're protected, he comes quietly... and then..." She kneels down behind the child leaning in so that her mouth is beside his ear. "Chomp!" The boy laughs as her hands tickle his ribs. "Dragon food!"

The boy stays where he is on the ground as she slowly walks toward another child. When the group finally registers that the rampage has now turned into a game, they disperse once again, hiding themselves in the thicket of the forest.

After allowing them a few minutes to properly hide themselves, she calls out, "Ready or not, the dragon comes!"

* * *

 "Bye Lily!"

"I had lots of fun today!"

"Can we hear the unicorn story tomorrow?"

"No, she should read the one about the phoenix!"

Lily chuckles quietly to herself as she watches the children scatter once they are inside the city walls. She glances down at her dress again before walking farther into town, certain that the book currently tucked away in her bosom is not visible from the outside. Giving herself one final pat down, she strolls down the central road, heading to the market.

She greets the vendors politely as she walks by, finally stopping in front of her favorite one: the fruit stall. The man, without looking up from the fruits he arranges, greets her with, "Good evening, Lily."

"And a fine evening it is, Mister Gar." She curtsies. "Anymore apples and pears I could buy today?"

He looks up at her then, his expression remorseful. "I'm afraid not, my dear. The delivery didn't make it. From what I was told, someone got spooked and went missing in the middle of the night and left it about three miles from town. I was going to get it myself today, but I haven't found the time to leave my stall... and night is falling soon."

Lily taps her chin in thought before a smile spreads across her face. "Well, Mister Gar, I have a proposition for you." An eyebrow lifts in question. "If I get this shipment here before tomorrow afternoon, you have to let me have half of the apples and pears on that cart."

The vendor chuckles, extending his hand out to her for a shake. Doubting her abilities, he agrees to her deal. "Alright then. I know you are quite the busy girl, but if you can get it here before the sun peaks in the sky, you can have your fruit free of charge."

"Good." A glint flashes in her eyes before she adds. "I'll go now."

A look of pure horror strikes his face and the blood drains, his appearance ghastly. "Wait!" he calls as she gradually disappears down the road. "Lily! Night falls in an hour!"

But his warning falls on deaf ears.

She slips down alleys and takes various urns, glancing over her shoulder every so often to make sure she is not being followed. Outside of the gate to her estate, she takes one last look around herself before pulling a key from a necklace tucked into her dress and unlocking the gate. While she walks down the cobblestone path, she gathers her brunette hair in her hands and ties it into a bun with a reluctant sigh.

On this ground, she is not Lily. She is Lillian Traugott, daughter of an aristocrat.

Her hate for this lifestyle is unfathomable.

The closer she gets to the estate, the more tense she becomes. If she is caught, she will be dragged into the manor.

With fruit on the line, that is not an option.

She hides behind bushes and takes cover behind walls, wary of the guards they have patrolling the state grounds. ' _Why are the stables so far back!?_ ' Moving carefully like this for so long becomes taxing; even the slightest misstep will get her into trouble. ' _Another one of pappa's schemes to catch me, I see..._ ' Tree branches are scattered all over the grass. ' _I'm sure you just so happened to decide on having them garden today, pappa._ ' It is not uncommon for there to be dried leaves or bushes of trimmed grass laid out for her to step on, but a this point, she had become an expert in avoiding them. ' _Nice try, though. I commend your consistent efforts._ '

Once the stables are in sight, she lets out a breath of relief, proud that she had made it there successfully. But just as she tiptoes the final stretch, thinking she was home-free...

"Lillian?"

' _Goddammit!_ '

"Lillian, where are you headed? It is almost curfew." Her father holds the lantern farther out in front of himself to see her figure more clearly.

"Good evening, pappa!" She turns on her heel to face her father with a taut smile. "I am just making a quick visit to the stables..."

"Whatever it is, it can wait for tomorrow."

"It really can't," she mumbles, glancing off to the side.

"What was that?"

"I promised Mister Gar an errand and I intend to complete it." She huffs indignantly to end the conversation, facing away from him now and defiantly continuing her walk to the stables.

"Lillian!"

"I'll just be an hour! Two at most!"

She starts to jog, just as her father shouts, "It is almost nightfall! A young lady should not be out this late!"

She does not respond, snorting quietly. "Tell that to mamma," she says to herself. Once she reaches the stables, she stops by each horses' to pat their muzzles. When she reaches her own horse's stable, she taps on the half-door before whistling softly. "Hey girl," she coos, greeting the palomino Hackney that clops up to the window. She reaches up on her toes, scratching behind the mare's ears. "Up for a little adventure?" The horse nickers and she smiles, rubbing her muzzle affectionately. "Let's go, Buttercup."

She opens the stable door and pulls the bit and reins from the wall, bridling the horse before finding the appropriate saddle. Absentmindedly, she pulls the book out of her dress and tosses it on the ground. "Just pulling a cart today. No galloping; I don't want to tire you out." She packs some of the treats into the pockets on the saddle as well. After a cursory check, she leads her companion out of the stables, watching for guards before heading to the back gate.

* * *

 ' _Huh. This is taking a lot longer than I thought..._ ' The pair had been trudging along the main road for over an hour now, but there was still no sign of the fruit cart. ' _This would be much faster on horseback, but I only brought Buttercup..._ ' She sighs, running a hand through her hair and unraveling her bun in the process.

The stars are just starting to shine in the sky, causing her a bit of unease. ' _I probably should have waited until morning..._ ' But it is too late now. To go back after her sending her father away would have only made her seem complacent and subordinate.

But with how quickly night is approaching, it is definitely starting to look like the better option.

Just as she is considering returning and waiting until morning, she spots an array of colors hiding behind the thicket of bushes a few feet away. She raises an eyebrow and leaves Buttercup on the road, treading into the grass. When she pushes aside bushes, she lets out a little cheer, seeing the abandoned fruit cart. But, as she approaches it, she spots some oddities in the area; though it is dark, she can see perfectly symmetrical holes that gouge deep into the light wood. Her face contorts in scrutiny and she takes a step back, looking up at the canopy above her. With the diminishing light, she has to squint to see the singed leaves and burnt branches.

As her mind begins to put the pieces together, a sharp whinny breaks her concentration. Lillian turns around to see Buttercup rearing, preparing to gallop off. "Whoa, girl! Hey! Calm down!" She runs up to the mare, motioning with her hands for the horse to come down, carefully reaching for the reigns. She talks the creature down, gently tugging on the reins until forequarters clop onto the ground. She hugs her muzzle, rubbing her cheek. "Everything's fine, girl. Relax. Just let me attach this cart and we can go home, okay? I'll even give you an apple before we go."

She brings the horse with her off of the path this time, rubbing Buttercup's neck along the way. Once they reach the cart, she grabs an apple, holding it out. "See? Everything's fine," she murmurs as the apple is eaten from her hand.

It takes half an hour for Lillian to finally get the cart attached to the saddle as the attachment hooks had nearly melted, almost completely flattened into the layer of metal they had once protruded from. "Alright girl, time to go."

A few moments after they return to the main road, she hears rustling not too far away, knowing it had not been caused by some rogue draft. She stands in silence with her companion, flinching slightly when she hears it again. "... Hello?" she calls out tentatively, fearing the possibility that she had just given her away her location to something dangerous. Cautiously, she approaches the direction of the noise. As she nears it, it moves again, though it sounds father away this time.

' _... Is it running away from me?_ '

She looks into the forest with an inquisitive look, walking backwards to Buttercup. "Go back home, girl. I'll be there soon." She slaps the horse's rear and watches as she gallops off.

It is probably not the brightest of ideas, but her curiosity gets the better of her. What could possibly fear someone like her?

She waits until she cannot see Buttercup anymore, glancing up at the sky to judge the time. ' _Pappa is going to kill me..._ ' Though she does not express her care for this thought, as she returns to the area the rustling had come from. She jogs, hoping to catch up to the sound.

Movement is heard from her left and she changes direction.

Soon she finds herself chasing after this disturbance, stumbling over tree roots and getting her dress snagged; she merely rights herself and tears the dress away from the clutches of branches and thorns immediately after. The unknown figure takes her every which way, the path it takes her on labyrinthine in nature. But finding her way back is the least of her worries at the moment.

She hears shuffling on a rough surface and the sound causes her to glance around in confusion. She slows to a stop as she pants heavily from the run. Lillian can hardly see now, what with the leaves above her blocking the moonlight that can only shine through the few crevices in the canopy. Taking a few more steps forward, she feels her slippers meet rock and she looks up again, finding that the trees have completely vanished.

When she faces forward, she sees something shimmer, a large, iridescent jade eye glinting at her before disappearing into the dark.

' _... Wait. An eye?_ '

Seconds later, light emerges a little farther down, casting shadows on the wall; she sees that she has stopped inside of a cave. Determined, she walks on, the sight of flames coming into view.

A few feet away sits a man bending over a book. When he hears her approaching, he looks up, raising an eyebrow at her.

For the split second that their eyes meet, she can swear that his brown eyes had shined green.

"Good evening. Not many people come out this far. Are you lost?"

She shakes her head, tilting it in question afterward at him. "I didn't think anyone lived outside of the city... especially not with the dragon—"

"So you believe in that myth, too?" The man chortles and she narrows her eyes at him, folding her arms under her breasts. "You must be a newcomer if you're ridiculing me about it."

"On the contrary. I've lived near Blackburn most all of my life."

She turns her head to side-eye him. "Who are you anyway? I know every family in the city and even those with farms around here, and never once have I ever heard mention of you."

"Then I guess that means you don't know every family in the area, do you?"

This man is really getting her nerves. "You still haven't answered my question."

He shakes his head with a smirk, getting to his feet and dusting his trousers off. He walks toward her stopping when they are a few feet apart. "My name is Kris," he says, bowing courteously.

"Kris...?" She motions with her hand for him to go on.

"Just Kris."

Once again, she gives him a skeptical stare; he is able to see that she is rather wary of him.

"I'm not from around here, you see. My family name is not one you would know."

She decides to let it slide for now. "I see. Well, I am Lily." She curtsies.

"-An Traugott. The hidden identity game does not work when you are the daughter of a prestigious family."

At his words, her eyes grow wide and she takes a step back in shock. "What... how do you know who I am!?" she sputters shrilly. "No one in the city knows my real name!"

"You are not as good at sneaking out as you think you are, Miss Traugott." He chortles as he returns to his seat by the fire.

She is absolutely baffled by these turn of events as she stares at him, bright blue eyes unblinking. "You... I should go back home." The thoughts she had when she had first come out into the forest returns, leaving her with feelings of unease.

"You forget about the dragon that strikes at night," he points out almost mockingly without pulling his gaze from the flames. "Are you sure you want to chance it?"

She contemplates her navel for a few moments, realizing he had a very good point, as much as she had not wanted to admit it. Though he does not believe in the mythos, she does, and she is not sure if proving her bravery to this stranger would be worth the possible consequences. "Then, pray tell, what do you suggest I do?"

He looks up at her then. "Stay here, obviously."

"You don't actually expect me to _trust_ you?"

He snorts indelicately, rolling his eyes. "There's nothing to worry about. I have no desire to prey on spoiled brats."

She huffs, lifting her ruined skirts and stomping over to a spot right across from him—the farthest away she can possibly get herself. She brings up her knees and hugs them, tucking her head into the opening.

They sit in silence for some time before she allows her curiosity to get the better of her again. "So how long have you lived out here?"

"Hard to say. Fifteen years, I believe."

"Fifteen?" She lifts her head and her eyebrow piques. "How old are you?"

It is after her that question that she begins to stare him down, analyzing him. His hair was a sandy blonde, falling just above his eyes. Brown—almost black—eyes watch her own as they trail downward, studying the slope of his nose, high cheekbones, thin lips, and a strong jawline. Surprisingly, he is not dressed in commoner clothing, but more the sort of thing her father would have worn on days spent at home: a white dress shirt and black trousers. She questions just what this man is all about, wondering how he is able to wear clothes like that when he lives all the way out here. It had not looked like he owned very much to begin with.

"It seems you are done with your investigation." When he points out her incredibly obvious staring, he expects her to become bashful, but she merely rolls her eyes instead. Keeping his surprise to himself, he then asks, "How old do you think I am?"

Lillian taps her chin, considering all that she had just reviewed. "I'd say... around twenty-one?"

He nods. "Very close. Twenty-two. And you?"

"Should I even answer or do you already know my age too?" Kris chuckles at her accusatory glower and harsh tone, putting his hands up in defense. "I only know your name and what you do daily, Traugott. Nothing more."

She makes the glare last a little longer before letting her eyes fall back to the blaze. "I'm nineteen." Her response encourages him to glance at her left hand. "You're unmarried." It is not a question.

"I am." She sighs heavily, her fingers now combing through her hair. "Are you going to harass me about my unengaged status as well?" A bitter chortle forces its way out of her throat.

"What you do with your life is of no influence on mine." He shakes his head. "Though, I am curious. Why are you?"

"Look at where I am, who I am with, how I am dressed. Now think about what would happen should I try to do these things while married." Her eyes flit up, their eyes meeting again. "I don't want to be confined to my household all my life. I don't want to become my mother, who sneaks out whenever my father is not home, living a double life."

"But you are already on your way there."

"And that is why I am unmarried."

He frowns when she closes her eyes, her forehead touching the top of her knees. A few moments later, she unravels and falls to the right, ungracefully flopping onto the cave floor. She has passed out.

He watches her for a moment longer before shaking his head and chuckling as he stands up, walking deeper into the cave. He returns not to long after, a set of sheets and a pillow in hand. He kneels down beside her and places the items on the ground, strategically lifting her head and sliding the pillow underneath. Skillfully, he places a sheet underneath her body as well, knowing how uncomfortable the ground can be without one. He drapes the final sheet over her body before putting out the fire.

"Good night, Traugott."

* * *

 For a few seconds, Lillian is considerably disoriented, trying to figure out where she is and how she had gotten there. When she sees the ashes of an extinguished fire next to her, the memories of last night return and she quickly gets up, looking around for the enigmatic man.

"Kris?" she calls out into the cave, but it is only her own voice that echoes back at her. ' _Interesting..._ ' She folds the sheets she had been lying with in thanks, internally charmed a bit by the small act of consideration and chivalry he had shown.

She blocks her eyes with her hand after she steps out of the cave, momentarily blinded by the harsh sunlight. Once she can finally see again, the forest comes into view, and the first thing she notices are two pairs of five deep, long gashes in the bark of an aged tree. Startled, she glances around fearfully for what could have possibly caused this sort of intensive damage to such a strong tree.

But it is not until she begins to jog away from the cave that she realizes something. Every few metres, another tree had been marked in a similar fashion, almost as if... ' _It's leading me back to the main road_.' She comes to a stop once it is within her sights.

' _How did it know that I was lost?_ '

She hears the sound of hooves and a cart coming closer, so she runs out, waving her arms. The cart stops right next to her a few moments later. "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

"Are you heading to Blackburn?"

"I am indeed. Do you need a ride there?"

She nods and he motions for her to hop on. As the cart continues onward, she turns to stare over her shoulder, eyes trained on the last pair of marks that had led her to the road.

' _There's only one thing that could have done that... but how would it have known?_ '


	2. twice

' _ I'm reading way too much into this. It was just sharpening its claws! And the path just so happened to lead back to the road... _ '

It had been a week since her run-in with Kris and the marked trees, but she was still fretting about what had happened.

' _ Maybe... maybe Kris knows the dragon... or what if he and the dragon are one and the same? _ ' When Lillian notices just how ridiculous her thoughts are becoming, she mutters, "What the hell am I thinking? That's preposterous. Whatever the case is, I need to—"

"Lily?"

The child's voice snaps her back into reality and she shakes her head. "Hm, what? O-oh, right. Uh, we're ending this early today." Hearing their whining and noises of discontent, she shushes them, motioning for them to settle down. "I just remembered something I need to do today. We'll have extra time together tomorrow."

"Do you promise?" one asks aloud for the others to hear.

She crosses her fingers over her heart, then raises her hand next to her shoulder. "I promise, darling."

Back in the city, she dances around the marketplace before returning home.

"Ah, Lillian, you are home early!" her mother greets, though she then follows up with, "What is all of that?"

"Things."

"I can see that. But what is it all  _ for _ ?"

She thinks for a minute, trying to create a plausible excuse, but none come to mind. "Look, mamma, this is rather heavy and I have somewhere I need to be. I shall answer all questions upon my return."

"You will not be out long like you were last week, will you?"

"No, mamma. I will just be an hour or two." She sighs.

"Do you promise?"

' _ You too? _ ' "Yes, yes."

"Very well then."

She takes a breath of relief once she can finally get to the stables and drop the items, packing them up and placing them onto Buttercup's saddle, adding herself as well before galloping off.

Within half an hour, she finds herself at the scarred tree, peering down the pseudo-path to see that the other trees are still scarred as well. She hops off of her horse then, leading her by the reins. "C'mon, girl. We've got a delivery to make."

They walk slowly along the path, with Lillian keeping a close eye out for any signs of the cause of the marks on the tree or any other possible threat. They stop once they are right in front of the cave; she takes this moment to find the gas lantern she had brought along with her just for this trip. After the flame had been brought to life, she clicks her tongue, tugging lightly on the reins to signal to the mare that they would be going onward.

The horse's hooves echo sharply on the slab of stone beneath them as they distance themselves little by little from the main light source they once had. The resounding is eerie—almost ominous—causing her to look around in fear; she uses her free arm to hug herself. She walks just a tad closer to Buttercup now, frowning to accompany her wide, cautious eyes.

"Never thought I'd see you again, Traugott." She spots him with his back against the cave wall, a book in hand again, but no light beside him to read it with. She does not realize the breath she had been holding unconsciously had quite visibly exhaled itself through her mouth. Aware of this action, Kris comments, "You weren't actually  _ scared _ coming into this cave alone with your horse, were you?"

When she glares harshly at him for exposing her vulnerability, he merely chuckles. "So how did you find your way back here?"

"The trees had huge gashes in them. They were also what led me back to the road last week."

He looks at her with a puzzled expression before her words click in his head. Her eyebrows lift as she watches the blood drain from his face at a surprisingly swift rate. "Kris, are you—"

"Was anyone following you? Did it seem like anyone else discovered those gashes? Were there any traces of anyone else following the path?" He gets to his feet, approaching her in a rather intimidating way.

She backs away with each step he takes forward, her horse whinnying and becoming startled as well. "Why are you—"

She cannot move away from him fast enough, as she soon finds herself in his grip, his hands tight on her shoulders. ' _ How... I blink once and then he's suddenly... _ '

"Lillian,  _ did you see anyone follow you here _ ?" The intensity of his stare makes her shrink back nervously. When his grip tightens on her shoulders, she whimpers softly, her hands wringing the handle of the lantern. "Kris, you're scaring me," she murmurs meekly. Carefully, she risks a glance up at him, a bit surprised by what she finds.

In his stare, she does not find anger, but fear.

She pulls a hand away from the lantern's handle and places it on his wrist, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb. "No one followed me, Kris. I am entirely certain that I am the only one that knows about the gashes on the trees. Unless someone already knew where it was, they wouldn't be able to see it from the main road."

"You would never bring anyone here with you, would you?"

"I have no reason to. I would not."

"Do you promise?"

' _ What is with everyone and promises today? _ ' "I promise."

It is her turn to chortle as he visibly sighs with relief. "What are you so worried about? Didn't you say that you've lived here most of your life? People should know who you are by now."

His smile is a bit tight. "You would think..." He shakes his head, moving on from this delicate subject. "So what's all that?" He motions to her horse and the package secured tightly to her back. "Are you planning on moving in? Why would you want to live your carefree, privileged life?"

"My life is a lot harder than you make it out to be,  _ thank you _ . And for your information, this is actually for you." An eyebrow of his raises curiously as she huffs. "But if you're going to be like this..."

"You still haven't answered my question." He starts to walk toward the horse, but she neighs shrilly, preparing to rear up. "Whoa, girl!" She quickly places the lantern on the ground and rushes past him to Buttercup, calming her down. He stops where he is, frowning slightly; it seems animals still fear his presence when he is near...

"I'm sorry; she's never reacted that way to someone before." She murmurs a few more words of comfort to the mare before she takes of the pack of items. She grunts when she has to bear the weight of the pack in her arms and he moves to help her with it, but she only takes a few steps forward before dumping it on the ground.

"Don't touch anything. I'm going to leave Buttercup outside."

She returns a few minutes later, having tied her companion to the nearest tree. When she sees him again, he is rocking on his heels, hands in his pockets. "Seems someone needs to tame their horse a bit more."

She rolls her eyes at him before walking up to the pack and kneeling next to it, pulling the drawstring to set the contents free. He sits down across from her, watching as she organizes the items.

"So... 'Buttercup'?"

She does not look up at him, but her scowl is still visible from this angle. "I was seven. Seven-year-olds are not the most creative people when naming things." He smirks when she makes her little huffing noise, beginning to recognize that it is the sound she makes when she tries to unsuccessfully disguise her irritation. "It was a harmless question; no need to get so defensive."

She snorts.

Kris observes in silence for a few more moments, but it is not long before he feels the need to ask, "Isn't there a group of children you are usually spending the day with at this time?"

She ceases movement and lifts her head to stare at him, taken aback by his comment. "How...?"

"I live out here, remember? It's not that farfetched to think that I've seen you and that group outside of the city at least once." He studies her expression before adding, "Wait... so does that mean you ended your day early just to come out here and give me these?"

The lighting may have been dim, but it has no effect on his ability to see the way a soft pink flourishes on her complexion as she glances down again. "Well when you put it like that...," she mumbles to herself. Though he anticipates a vehement denial, he instead receives, "Err... yes... I couldn't come at night, and we usually don't finish up until sundown..." He is thoroughly impressed by her honesty, though he gets some of the reply he had been looking for when she states, "But I didn't come here  _ just _ for you, though. I have some questions I want to ask."

Once she has finished organizing and stacking everything, she motions for him to take the items away.

"Why?"

"Because you let me stay the night in your cave and... and you're the first person that has ever allowed me to talk about my life without criticizing me for it. It was nice to finally speak to someone without being rudely cut off or judged, and I truly appreciate that." She pauses. "I admit that maybe getting you this much stuff was a smidge excessive, especially for such a simple action, but you'll just have to deal with it."

She smiles slightly and his eyebrows rise in surprise. "I'm shocked. You actually know how to smile!"

Lillian purses her lips and glares at him now. "If you keep being snide like that, I'll bring the children with me the next time I decide to come here."

"Please don't." He pales a bit. "Children have this impeccable knack of discovering things they really have no business in finding..."

This remark of his piques her curiosity, but she does not pursue the topic. "Even though I'm sure you have all the provisions you need, there are more for you, just in case. When I talked to you the first time I came here, it seemed like you didn't come into the city often, what with me not knowing your family name and you living in this cave. The fact that you became so concerned over the possibility of someone else finding you here only further supports my thoughts." She shrugs seemingly nonchalantly, staring at him as he looks everything over and starts gathering them in his arms.

"I just figured I should show my gratitude toward an act of kindness with my own..." She starts nervously playing with her hands that lay in her lap, eyes straying downward to them. She had sought (dis)approval for what she had done—any response at all, really—for what she had done, but she could find no trace of this in his expression.

She flinches slightly when she suddenly feels an incredibly warm hand over both of her own, quickly looking up. His other arm encompasses the items as he knees down on one knee in front of her, preparing to get up. Making sure their eyes are locked first, he says, "Thank you. I really appreciate that."

The sound of his sincerity entices a grin to spread onto her face. "You're welcome." He smiles back at her before standing up, walking deeper into the cave. She considers following him, curious as to what may she may find beyond, but she ultimately decides against it, knowing it would breach the little bits of trust they currently shared.

Once he comes back, she stands with the lantern in one hand and she brushes her skirts off with the other. "I should probably get going. I promised my mother that I would only be out for an hour or so..." She curtsies before turning on her heel, heading to the entrance of the cave. He jogs after her, walking at her pace once he has caught up to her. "Didn't you say you had some questions to ask?"

"Oh, I do. They were about the scars on the tree and your mild paranoia. I could ask you anything and everything about it, but I have the feeling that you'll just give me a vague answer about it no matter what." She peers over at him with scrutiny before shaking her head, turning the switch on the lantern to put out the flame once they near where sunlight floods into the cave.

He stops right in front of the cave once they are outside, knowing that if he approaches her horse again, it will become alarmed. She glances at him, giving him a small, acknowledging nod before adjusting the saddle, the man now out of her peripheral view. As she sticks a foot into the stirrup, she says, "Actually, before I go, I have a ques... tion..."

Turning her head his way when she begins to speak, she finds that he has already disappeared. ' _ How did he... without a sound... _ ' She looks around every which way to search for him or for any evidence as to which direction he had gone.

But he has disappeared without a trace.


	3. thrice

"What the—why are you here? When did you arrive? Isn't it sundown?"

"Yeah, well."

Lillian sits with her back against the wall of the cave hugging her knees, seated right where grass meets stone. She looks up at him, appearing slightly disheveled and not-so-slightly upset.

He squats down in front of her, lips frowning and brow knitting in concern. "Traugott, what's wrong? I know you wouldn't come out here without a reason, especially not at this time of day. I'm going to guess that you're here because something's bothering you." She sighs heavily at his completely correct analysis on her current state of being, combing her fingers through her hair to pull the strands away from her face.

"My parents have finally decided that it's time for me to start meeting with some suitors. My father left for London today to convince some of them to come to Blackburn to try for my hand because I refused to go with him. He returns next week, most likely with at least a few of those money-hungry, tasteless leeches." She huffs harshly, expelling some of her stress in this way.

"Here, let's talk inside." Kris extends his hand out to her and she takes it so that he can pull her up as he stands. Without letting go, he leads her to the area of the cave where he usually resides. "Stay here."

She stands patiently in the dark, waving in greeting when she sees a small flame approach. They both sit down a moment later, the lantern on the ground between them.

"So I'm going to take a wild guess here and say that this is something you absolutely do not want to happen." Her " _ what do you think? _ " stare causes him to chuckle under his breath. "I was just making sure my assumptions were correct." He puts his hands up in defense. "Now, what I am not so sure about is the reason as to why you came here. I don't see your horse, so that means you spent at least an hour of your time walking here. Why?"

"Do you remember what I told you last week when I showed up with all those things?" He nods. "I can't talk to anyone in the city about my life because they aren't allowed to know my real identity and all of my acquaintances that  _ do _ know who I really am are already married—with children—convinced that I'm just some rebellious prat who is playing hard-to-get for no good reason."

Noticing that she had started to become worked up over her issue again, he quickly grabs her hand, holding her palm in his with one of his own and rubbing the back of it with the other. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, getting her wits about her. "Also, they can't find me here." She reopens her eyes and smiles apologetically at him. "I'm sorry for using your cave for my own selfish purposes."

"No, no; it's fine, really. It's nice having company over every once in a while. It can get a bit lonely out here, living by yourself in a cave six kilometres away from the nearest city." He offers her a small grin and she accepts it, returning the expression.

"So are you planning on spending the night again? Or will you be going home soon?"

"And walk home when that dragon could be out there anywhere, waiting for an easy target like me to eat for dinner? No thank you, I'll be staying here another night."

He chortles, shaking his head. "Every single one of you in that city is so convinced that the dragon is out to get you. Why would it go after innocent people? Better yet, how do you all even know that it exists?"

She frowns in thought, formulating an answer. "Well, I've heard many a tale about men and women running into town, shouting about how someone that was with them had been attacked by a winged beast... anyone that went to the sites the incidents occurred usually spoke of burnt trees and blood... but they could never find the bodies. I've even witnessed a man come running into Blackburn with that crazed, terrified look in his eyes, screaming at the top of his lungs for help."

"But can you really trust the accounts of others?"

"Well... if the gashes on the trees are any indication, it seems they definitely encountered some sort of monster out here." She pauses. "Also, when I went to get Mister Gar's fruit delivery back, I found the cart partially damaged... and the leaves and trees looked relatively recently charred, even in the dark of night. Come to think of it, that was the same night I met you. If I hadn't gotten here any sooner, I'm sure I would have been the dragon's next victim."

He frowns momentarily at her response, a rebuttal on his tongue but hesitance in his heart. He lets the reply die, knowing he cannot tell her the truth about what had actually occurred. Instead, he puts on a smile—forced by definition—and says, "Looks like that dragon might be real after all. Maybe I should be a little more careful from now on, yeah?"

Hearing his teasing tone, she swats his hands away and purses her lips into a pout, eyes narrowed. "Fine, keep mocking me. But when you get eaten by the dragon, don't say I didn't warn you."

"I'll keep that in mind." He chuckles with sincerity now, shaking his head. "Don't worry, Traugott, I think I'll be just fine."

"Suit yourself. Anyway, stop calling me 'Traugott.' It's too formal."

"But I am just a simple-minded peasant and you are a socialite. I am merely being polite."

She shoots him a skeptical stare, quite certain she can hear a tinge of taunting in his tone. "When I'm out here, I'm no longer a socialite. That's only when I'm at the estate, and even then, it's questionable. So please, just call me 'Lily.' And you really can't be that informal with me yet, at least use 'Lillian.'"

He lifts an eyebrow at her. "You  _ want _ me to be informal? But we've only known each other for a little over three weeks now."

"I'd like to think we're already rather acquainted with each other, don't you? I was under the impression that we were already friends."

Both eyebrows are raised in surprise now. "Are we? I wasn't expecting this kind of response. I was convinced that you disliked me."

Lillian chortles a bit, smirking at him. "You irritate me with your crass nature sometimes, but I definitely do not dislike you."

Kris chortles as well. "'Lillian' it is then."

"Great! Now feed me, friend. I haven't eaten since this morning."

He stares at her for a moment before shaking his head and getting to his feet, brushing off his trousers. "Stay here again. I'll be back in an hour or so."

"That's a long time!"

"Unlike someone I know, I actually have to go out and  _ catch _ my food." She scowls at him with a glare, sticking her tongue out at him. As he walks off, he mutters, "Typical socialite..."

"I heard that!"

After returning and dodging all of her questions about how he had caught fish without a fishing pole when she had not seen him leave with one (which had persisted all throughout preparing and eating the meal as well), they sit with a campfire between them now. Night had fallen on this day in October, so Lillian holds a blanket he had retrieved; it is wrapped around her to protect herself from the chilly weather as she sits right in front of the fire. Kris, meanwhile, remains unaffected by the change in weather, so he sits against the cave wall, book in hand.

"You're not even a little cold?"

He glances up from his book. "Not at all. In fact, I anticipate the day when it gets cooler. I especially enjoy when it snows."

She shakes her head and her lips pout with distaste. "Too cold." He smiles a bit and looks back down at his book. About an hour later, his concentration on the text is broken by the body that decides to make itself comfortable against him. "I'm bored," it says. "What are you reading?"

He shows her the cover before going back to the page he had last read. She places her head on his shoulder, reading along with him. A few minutes of silence garners the words, "So when's your birthday?"

"Well that was a rather unwarranted question. But to answer it, it's November sixth."

She gasps. "That's soon! Next month! At least I have three weeks to plan. That should be more than enough time to get something adequate." He turns his head to look strangely at her. "You know, that really isn't necessa—"

"Yes it is, now just accept the fact that you will be getting a birthday gift, dammit."

He laughs. "Alright, alright. But your 'thank you' package was more than enough."

"Giving you a few more things wouldn't hurt. And besides, a birthday package is completely different from a thank you package."

"I suppose you have a point. Fine, I'll accept your birthday package."

"Good. You better."

Kris laughs again and pats her head a few times before they both begin to read the novel again.

Another hour later and the body against him becomes dead weight. He peers down at his shoulder; her eyes are closed and her breathing has evened out. He chuckles quietly as he closes the book and sets it down beside his leg, carefully working his way out from under her so she will not stir. Once he has her arm in hand to keep her from falling over, he slides his hand to her back and the other lifts her legs, carrying her and setting her down gently near the fire. He runs deeper into the cave, returning seconds later with a pillow and blanket for her to lie on.

Making sure she was a safe distance away from the flames so she could remain unharmed, he let the fire burn on to keep her warm. Kneeling down beside her, he rubs her arm comfortingly, smiling to himself when she pulls the sheets tighter around herself and sighs contently.

"Good night, Lillian. Come back soon."

When she wakes up the next morning, she sighs as she sits up, glancing around for a man she knows will not be near. Also well aware that she will not get a response, she shouts, "Kris?" sighing again when she hears her own voice reply instead. Organising his items just like before, she leaves, muttering under her breath about how he really had to stop pulling these disappearing acts. "If I glance away for so much as one second, he just vanishes!" She exhales in defeat, shaking her head.

' _ Sometimes I think he's just a figment of my imagination and this is all just a dream... _ '


	4. mysteries abound

A knock sounds off at her door; she has been expecting this knock all morning. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she pushes herself away from her desk and walks stiffly to the door. After inhaling again and smoothing out her skirts, Lillian turns the knob, wearing a practiced smile. "Yes, Meredith?"

"Your father has returned, Miss Traugott. He would like for you to greet the guests he has brought with him."

"Of course. I shall be down momentarily."

She shuts the door after the maid curtsies and she nods in acknowledgement. Putting her ear to the door, she listens attentively for the woman's retreating footsteps. Once she cannot hear the maid anymore, she pulls away from the oak structure, tying up her hair and folding up her skirts. "Alright, here we go."

She jogs over to the window, throwing it up open and placing her foot on the windowsill. She peers down, watching as the guard makes his round around her wing of the manor. The second he is out of sight, she hoists herself over the windowsill, finding purchases in the brick wall for her hands and feet. She hisses quietly each time the rough texture cuts her skin open or tears a nail; she gasps sharply every time her foot undershoots a foothold or slips on an edge; these things are brushed off quickly, with the knowledge that there was no time to spare. Her descent is slow; she jumps off when she is about a metre off of the ground. Once she hits the ground, she grunts, feet flat, knees bent, and fingertips compressing blades of grass.

Standing up, she wipes her hands on her skirts, glancing around before dashing toward the back gate.

Hearing the footsteps approach, he asks, "Ditching your group just to come and see me again, are you?"

"Don't flatter yourself. For your information, I'm actually ditching my meeting with the suitors my father brought back. I'm going to come here every day until he sends them away." When she takes a few steps forward to approach the lantern, his jesting nature vanishes instantly.

"Stay here." Her eyebrow piques as she watches Kris drop his book and run off, confused as to why he seems so panicked.

When he returns, he motions for her to sit down, setting a kit down beside himself after kneeling down to her level. He pops it open, immediately seizing one of her hands. "What were you doing!?" The amount of blood leaking from her lacerations causes him distress.

He is frantic.

"Well I couldn't just leave normally, of course. I had to climb down the side of my house to escape without being seen. The walls are made of brick, so you can imagine..." She shrugs, frowning at how concentrated he is on her hand, placing it in his lap as he pours alcohol onto a cloth. Lifting her hand again, he dabs the cloth onto her wounds and she lets out a cry, pulling her hand away swiftly. He catches her wrist before she can take it back completely. "This is the only way it'll get better. Please sit still."

"They'll heal without all this, you know. This isn't necessa—"

"Yes it is."

She looks up at him to retort, but the intensity of his concerned stare kills any choice words she had had for him. "Fine, fine." With an intake of air, she holds the breath in her lungs, trying at her lower lip. Her eyes shut tightly, her body bracing itself for the worst.

After sixteen minutes of pure hell, her burning hands are wrapped securely in bandages and her nails are clean. A thorough check on the condition of the rest of her body is conducted before he finally calms down, visibly relaxing.

"What was that all about? It was only my hands. And they were just cuts."

"I... I had to make sure that you were okay." He runs a hand through already-tousled hair, exhaling a breath he had not realised he had been holding. "Just... try not to do that again, alright? Or at least go about it more carefully." His heart still had yet to settle, memories of a bloodied blouse and a mutilated mortal consuming his thoughts.

Sensing his distressed aura, she reaches out, placing her hand over his. "Kris, are you alright?"

"Y-yes, I'm fine." He shakes his head to clear away the thoughts, but remnants still linger.

"Are you sure? You still look rather unsettled..." Her brow creases with worry as she rubs the back of his hand. "If it helps any, it was just a couple of scratches. I was never in any real danger. And thank you for being more concerned about my well-being than I was." She clears her expression, smiling encouragingly instead.

He merely nods, closing his eyes for a moment and allowing her ministrations to soothe him. Soon enough, the thoughts fade and the mental nightmare ends. "Thank you," he mutters. She nods once and lets go of his hand, observing him for just a moment longer so she can rest assured that he is truly stable now.

Lillian stands up, walking until she was right behind him before sitting down and leaning against him. "Fret not; I won't fall asleep on you this time." They both chuckle and she closes her eyes, outstretching her legs and folding her hands in her lap. "So how has your week been, friend? It does not appear as though you do much, considering every time I come here, you're reading. You read rather fast; there's a new book in your hand every week."

"I assure you, I do much more than read." He picks up the book he had abandoned and returns to the page he had left off on.

The atmosphere between them after his response is quiet, but not uncomfortably so. It is a lulling quiescence, with steady breaths and minimal movements creating a serene silence. When she releases her hair from its hold, he collects some of the strands, twirling them around his fingers, playing with her hair absentmindedly. She begins to hum, murmuring words and small phrases here and there.

Untrue to her word, she falls asleep half an hour later. He chortles, glancing over his shoulder at her before continuing to read.

* * *

 The notification of her awakened state is indicated by her stretching and considerably audible yawns behind him.

"Did you have a good nap?"

Upon realising what she had done, she grumbles, "Shit," under her breath, rubbing her face.

"That was not a very ladylike word to say."

She snorts inelegantly and rolls her eyes. "You should have woken me up."

"Why? You come here to relax, don't you? And you're injured. I have no reason to disturb your sleep or keep you from feeling at ease... even if you did break your word."

She huffs, though she smiles a smile he cannot see. "What time is it?"

"Around one in the afternoon."

" _You let me sleep for four hours_? Kris!"

"You sounded so peaceful; what was I to do?" She elbows his back when she detects the facetious undertone. He grunts in response, but then laughs, tugging lightly at the hair he has trapped between his fingers. This earns him another elbowing, though not as sharply this time.

"I hope you have no plans on leaving anytime soon."

"I can't stay the night again this time. Why? Is something wrong?"

"Listen."

The silence lasts for all of three seconds before the crack of thunder reverberates inside of the entire cave, managing to rumble the floor just barely enough for them to feel it. "Wow."

"Indeed."

She sighs before standing up and dusting off her stained skirts. "Well, it's best if I get a headstart now before it worsens."

"... Lillian, you're not _actually_ considering leaving when the storm is at its peak, are you?"

"A little water and wind never hurt anyone."

"Not directly, no. But there are very real possibilities that lightning may strike a tree and make it fall. Not only that, but you won't be able to see more than a metre in front of you." He lifts himself up slightly so that he can grab her hand, pulling her down so that she fell onto his lap. "I refuse to let you put yourself in that kind of unnecessary danger."

She sighs again, shifting so that her back is against his chest. He shuffles backwards so that his back is supported by the cave wall. "I suppose I can stay until the storm dies down a little. But I mean it when I say that I can't stay tonight." To herself, she adds, "You always leave me when I do anyway."

"Hm?"

"Nothing. Anyway, my parents are already under the assumption that I am sneaking off to have a secret rendezvous with some mysterious boy who they would not approve of."

"But is that not precisely what you're doing?"

"Listen here, smartass."

Kris chuckles and she swats at his leg, though he gotten a smirk out of her for his comment. "I'm more than sure that they are thinking about it in terms of an affair."

"But this _is_ an affair."

"You know what I meant by 'affair'; stop messing around." She rolls her eyes, resting her head on his left shoulder. "Go back to your book, loser."

He relents with a smile, his chin propping up on her right shoulder and his arms wrapping around her waist so that he could continue reading.

"Why are you so afraid of anyone finding you here?" she asks after he has turned the pages thirty times. "You make it appear as though you enjoy being alone and you make it sound as if you like being isolated miles away from Blackburn, but you don't, do you?" When she feels him tense, she knows she is approaching a rather sensitive topic. She breaks out of his hold and sits down beside him so that they are facing each other, legs folded underneath herself as she stares intently. "No human being enjoys complete solitude. So why do you act like you do?"

"It's better this way."

She is surprised at how quickly he responds, but that is not what quiets her; what quiets her is the results she derives from her analysis on his words. "Better? How is this better? Better for whom? Because it certainly isn't for you."

"Lillian, please. Let it go."

His face is completely turned away from her; the knuckles on the hands that clutch his book turn white from how tightly they grip the hardcover. His entire body screams 'discomfort.' Not wanting to push him too far, she drops the subject with a reluctant sigh. "Sorry."

He accepts her apology with one small, succinct nod, making no other reply.

This time, the silence that occurs is not soothing. Instead, it is stiff, awkward; it signals an issue and represents a change in their relationship.

Whether the issue will be resolved, and if it is a change for better or worse, neither can tell.


	5. ambiguity

" _Lillian Marie Traugott_! Where have you been!?"

She winces when she hears her mother's shrill voice shouting at her upon her return. "How rude do you want our family to appear!? How disrespectful can you possibly get!?"

She rubs her ears, sighing heavily as she lifts her skirts to properly tread up the front stairs of the manor. " _And to say nothing of the condition of your clothes_ ! When do you plan on ending this nonsense for good!? You are a lady now, Lillian, _and it is time you start acting as such_!"

Once she is standing in front of her mother, she curtsies politely, appearing sincerely apologetic. "Please excuse my childish and unjustifiable actions, mamma. I did not plan on staying out until sundown. I just had a few loose ends to tie up outside of the estate. I promise I will not do it again. You have my word."

How easy it is to look someone in the eye and lie through one's teeth, breaking a promise previously cemented by their word.

After brief—though heated—conversations with her parents, she is dragged here and there by maids: tossed into the shower, shoved into a wardrobe, pushed onto a stool resting in front of a vanity. This had all been in preparation for the extensive—and frigid—meetings with the three suitors who had decided to stay the night at their manor.

That same night, immediately after all those trivial things, Lillian had packed all of her essential items in an old knapsack. Donning a hooded cape, she shoulders the knapsack once she has finished up, repeating the same routine she had used that morning to escape. But when she attempts to open the window, she finds that it will not budge.

Pulling the lantern off of the knapsack, she brings the light closer to the windowsill, discovering a layer of dried plaster between the metal and marble. She swears profusely under her breath, mentally running through the list of options she can choose from. For a moment, she favors the consideration of scraping the plaster off with her nails... she looks at the condition of her hands and quickly decides that that is not worth the amounts of pain it will bring her. But what about scraping it off with a knife? No, that would make far too much noise.

' _It's rather late now... everyone should be asleep..._ ' She taps her chin, creating a layout of the manor in her mind. ' _If I go out that way, avoid the maids' rooms there, turn into that hallway, and leave through the garden, I can get to the stables... but the guards at the back of the estate... well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it._ ' She nods affirmatively to herself, turning the lighting on the lantern to a dimmer setting and reattaching it to her knapsack before heading out of the room.

' _Thank goodness the maids are lazy as all hell once we're all asleep._ ' She had escaped the manor without a hitch because the m aids had all retired to bed as well. She skitters to the stables, hushing the displeased nickering coming from Buttercup when she wakes the horse. Seeing the animal's ears fold back as well, she murmurs apologies, rubbing her muzzle. "Sorry, girl, but we need to leave."

After packing Buttercup's essentials as well and leading her out of the stables, Lillian hops onto the saddle, holding the reigns tight. "Alright, girl. We've only got one shot at this. We mess up and it's over." She gives a hefty pat to the side of her neck before whipping the reins, shouting, "Ya!"

She moves with the horse as she gallops, squinting so that she is able to see better, pulling the hood down lower to break the wind that licks at her face. Offhandedly, she mentally congratulates herself for tying back her hair before she had left. She swears when a guard spots her, though she had been more than aware that this was going to happen.

What truly causes her to panic is when he calls out for other guards, who also give chase to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see one signal to the others at the gate to stop her somehow; they are under the impression that she is a thief.

"C'mon girl, only half a kilometer to go..." She whips the reins a bit harder, instinctively pressing the stirrups into the Hackney's sides because of the burst in speed. Her eyes widen as she watches a guard lift his lantern, and then throw it to the ground. Instantly, a blaze begins, startling Buttercup. She whinnies and Lillian can feel her beginning to rear up, but she shouts, "No!" whipping the reins as hard as she can.

"Everything will be alright, girl! I swear! Just keep going!"

She is ducking down low on the horse now, bracing herself. ' _Four metres... three metres... two, one...!_ ' "Jump!"

Over the rising flames and the five-halves metre high gate, the Hackney leaps, smoothly continuing her gallop once her hooves hit the ground again. The cloaked figure glances over her shoulder, seeing the figures struggle with putting out the fire. Whooping and hollering, she cheers for her successful escape attempt.

"We're free!" She lets go of the reins and throws her hands out, arms outstretched.

She has her companion slow to a stop once they are halfway to Kris's cave, rubbing the horse’s neck affectionately. She feels how heavily the animal breathes, thankful that she is not panting. "Sorry, girl. I know that took a lot out of you. Getting older really bites, doesn't it?" She hops off of the saddle and digs into a pouch, pulling out an apple. "Here you are, my dear. A reward for a job well-done."

Lillian allows them both a period of rest for a quarter of an hour longer before mounting the horse again, having her merely trot this time. Once they are near the marked tree, both she and Buttercup look around, an ominous sound echoing from a distance. ' _It sounds like... roaring..._ '

A fearful sensation coils in the pit of her stomach, nurturing the panicked feeling that had sprouted. She whips the reins lightly so that her horse is at a steady gallop now.

A few minutes later, a roar is heard overhead and a ball of fire streaks through the air, landing with a deep boom not too far off. She screams at the top of her lungs, the roar and the Hackney's spooked rearing to blame for her actions. When her companion begins to gallop hectically through the forest, she has no qualms about this, sharing the same terrified nature as the animal beneath her. Her body shivers violently, shouting at her to get out of the open, to get to safety.

To get to Kris.

She is of sounder mind (but not completely) once she hears that the roaring is farther off now, allowing her to focus on the trees that pass her in a blur. When she detects a lighter color in the haze of bark, she quickly changes the direction Buttercup gallops in with a tug, breathing a bit easier when hooves clatter rhythmically on stone flooring. Pulling back on the reins to get her to halt, she jumps off of the saddle. "Kris?"

At this point, the small bit of relief she had felt is smoldered as quickly as it had come. She detaches the lantern from the knapsack and turns the flame to its highest and brightest setting. As she searches, she can find no remnants of his usual activities; there is no book lying on the ground, there is no extinguished campfire, there is no abandoned lantern waiting to be found. Images of the shadow she had seen in the sky came to mind; anxiety then begins to rise in her throat until she is frantically shrieking, "Kris! _Kris_! Oh my god, please tell me you're here... Kris! Kris, please!"

She circles around the areas of the cave she knows, eyes brimming with tears of frustration. "Please come back safely," she whispers as she sits down beside her lying horse, leaning her back against her. "Why didn't you believe me when I told you there was a dragon running amok? If you were attacked by it tonight, I'll never forgive you."

* * *

 When her shoulder is shaken, she gasps sharply and sits up quickly, a scream bubbling in her throat. Just as she is about to set it free, she registers who is kneeling next to her, and a heavy exhale is released instead.

"Oh my god, where have you been!? I was so fucking worried and you—" She cuts herself off, throwing her arms around him and sobbing into his shoulder. "I thought you were gone for good," she laments, clutching him tighter when he becomes receptive to the embrace and hugs her back.

"What happened?"

"I saw the dragon last night. I don't care what you say; it was that damned monster, without a doubt. I saw it flying overhead and I could hear it roaring. I even saw it breathe fire... I thought it had gotten you for sure. I came here last night and you weren't here when I showed up and I... I'm sorry about yesterday; I'll never do it again, just please don't scare me like that ever again."

As she snivels, he frowns, jaw working as he reevaluates her words. ' _'Damned monster,' huh? I see..._ ' He rubs her back until she calms down and pulls away, cleaning herself up. "Goodness, that was embarrassing."

"It really was. You look like a mess."

She narrows her eyes at him and gives him a good punch to the arm. "I was worried, you jerk." Though it had resulted in him getting his arm punched, he is glad he had made the comment. "Ah, there's the Lillian I know." He rubs his arm as he looks to her horse, then her. She takes a look at her horse as well, but keeps her gaze set on Buttercup, wondering why she is lying so far from them. "So I know you said you'd keep coming back until the suitors leave, but you brought some of your things and your horse this time. Is something going on?"

"Well, you see, when I came back, my parents insinuated that I would not be allowed to leave the house again. I also had the feeling that they were going to entrap me—and I was right, by the way; they plastered my room window shut—so I took it upon myself to leave before they could do so."

"So essentially, you ran away last night and decided your next best course of action would be to stay here with me."

"Sounds about right, yes."

"You are crazy."

"Only a little. But aren't we all?"

"Smart, though."

"Why thank you."

"Though, won't they start looking for you?"

"Hm, probably. We'd have to get rid of those marks on the trees somehow then."

"I'll take care of that."

Lillian nods as she gets to her feet, realising she had fallen asleep nearer to the entrance of the cave than she had originally thought. Now that she is able to see clearly, she turns off the already-dead lantern, standing up and walking over to her horse. "Wait," she says, pausing in her motions. "If you're going to get rid of the markings on the trees, how will I find my way back?"

He ponders this for a moment. "Good point."

"Well, I'll be at Blakewater if you need me."

Kris nods this time and she waves, leaving with her companion in tow.

"What if we broke some branches and leave them strewn about?" she asks when she returns, one hand holding a towel wrapped around her head, while the other held Buttercup's reins. She watches him as he inspects the trees. "That could work. No one will make anything of it."

"Precisely." She clicks her tongue and winks as she walks past him to go back into the cave, pulling the towel off of her head. The horse trots quickly behind her owner, nickering with discomfort at him as she passes.

' _Just once, I would like to meet an animal that doesn't fear me._ '

As Lillian is inside of the cave, doodling and scribbling away in her journal by Kris's lantern, she hears the sharp splintering of wood. ' _Well, we did agree to breaking branches_ ...' But the additional noises she picks up on has her question just what he is up to out there. ' _Why does it sound like you're uprooting whole trees?_ '

She tries to ignore it, but with each sound her curiosity grows ever so slowly. Just as she is about to get up and investigate just what he is doing, he appears, sitting down next to her.

"What in the world were you doing out there?"

"What we agreed to."

She stares skeptically at him for a moment, mentally noting that his clothes had not been tarnished in a way that suggested that he had broken tree branches, but she ultimately decides not to question it, more than aware of his evasive ways. "If you say so..."

He watches her doodle and write for just a moment before she grunts with irritation and turns away, aware that he had been observing her progress. "Shoo, shoo. Go read a book or something." She waves him off and he chuckles as he raises an eyebrow at her. "Cryptic, I see."

"I know how this reverse psychology works. Too bad for you because I'm not falling for it." She sticks her tongue out at him before resuming.

"So what's the real reason you ran away?"

Because quite a bit of time had passed before he asked the question, she is rather engrossed in her work, so he has to repeat what he had asked.

"Oh. Heh, well." She sits up straight and runs a hand through damp strands. "Though I do fear that I may become my mother, the truth of the matter is... I am afraid. I am afraid that whoever I am betrothed to will strip away my freedoms just as my parents were about to do. I am afraid that he will treat me like my father does my mother: neglecting and unattending. I am afraid that either of us will resort to extramarital affairs because we are not providing for each other in the way that we should." She takes a moment to take a deep breath. "Getting married means that I have to become what every other person in my social class is: conniving, uptight people who have forgotten the meaning of compassion and merriment. I means no longer seeing people as friends, but as business advantages instead. I means having yourself and your heirs marrying higher and higher in raking until there's nowhere else to go but down. And... and it means leaving you alone." She looks down at her lap, then closes her eyes and shakes her head. "And even though I live on an estate full of socialites, and maids, and guards, and horses, and everything I'd ever need and even more... I'm just as lonely as you are, if not even more so." She lifts her head up to give him a slight smile before studying her skirts again.

"What amazes me is that, even after that little spiel of yours, you still trust me wholeheartedly enough to go so far as staying here," he comments. "I could very well do some of the things you described, you know."

"Oh, I'm well aware. But what can I say? I trust you, plain and simple. You've shown me more kindness and concern than my own parents ever did in my entire lifetime." She looks back up at him once again and gives him an even wider smile this time.

"How nice it is to be trusted by someone again."

"... Again?"

He smirks enigmatically, expression unidentifiable as he glances away from her, revealing no more.


	6. oath

"I need to go into the city," she announces on the day exactly a week before his birthday.

He freezes for a moment before slowly looking up at her, his stare questioning her sanity. "What could you possibly need? And with what money?"

"Well, this lantern’s almost out of oil and you can't possibly expect me to write in the dark. And there are also other... things... besides, I always carry some spare change with me everywhere I go."

"... How much is spare change?"

"... A couple hundred pound sterling?"

He keeps his gaze trained on her for a minute or two, trying to process the ridiculousness of her statement. "Well, if you go, you're sure to get caught. Do you truly want to risk it?"

Lillian considers that for a moment, tapping her chin as she stares up at the ceiling of the cave. "You're right. My face is too recognizable and I think the cat's out of the bag regarding who I really am." She looks around, glancing at the knife he had in his hands, currently filleting a fish. Casually, she stands up and plucks it from his hands, wiping the residue off on her skirt. She hums as she skips off, twirling the knife in her fingers behind her back.

" _Where_ are you going? _What_ are you doing?" He quickly stands up as well and chases after her, seeing that she has stopped right outside of the cave. His eyes widen when he watches her gather auburn strands in one hand, flicking the wrist holding the knife with the other.

Beautifully, brown wisps cascade to the grass below them, and a now-short-haired brunette with bright blue eyes turns to face him, a wide, pearlescent smile on her face.

"What...? Why...? You..."

"It was time for a change anyhow," she says with a nonchalant shrug, only a hint of solemnity in her voice. She clasps her hands together in front of herself, eyes closed and head bowed. "I had to do what was necessary." She looks back up at him with a soft smirk now. "And it's only hair. Give it some time and it'll grow back." She runs a hand through the shorn hair, brushing the chin-length strands away from her face.

He stares at her, dumbfounded; his thoughts are elsewhere even though his eyes are focused on her. It is not until she levels the blade with her face that he snaps out of his reverie. "Lillian, Lillian, why is that knife—"

With a swipe of the blade, splotches of sanguine splatter onto the floor and stain the sleek metal before some of it gushes from her face. Once the pain finally registers, she hisses as she drops the knife, clutching her face with one hand and palming the floor with the other.

Immediately, he disappears in seconds, reemerging from the dark of the cave just as swiftly. Before she can question how he had been able to get there and back in the blink of an eye, he kneels down next to her and pops open the makeshift first-aid kit, moving at the speed of light.

"What were you thinking!? I know you want to be unrecognizable, but that was _not_ a measure you had to take!" As he tends to her fresh wound, she observes him quietly, becoming aware of the frantic but distant look in his eyes; she knows he is looking at her, but he is not seeing _her_.

And she duly notes the almost-ebony eyes that have now turned to jade.

" **Just what were you hoping to achieve!? If this is some ploy to startle me with a joke again, I do not find this amusing in the slightest!** " As she mentally records his words, a roaring element echoes the shouting he emits, his speech growing a little less coherent the more he speaks.

" **What purpose was this for!? Did you want to be a martyr!? Is that it!?** " She piques an eyebrow, an inquisitive nature in her stare as she regards him now. The fact that he had previously stated exactly what she had slashed her face for but now asks why she had done it tells her that he is more than remembering his past now.

He is reliving it.

" **I didn't need you to save me! I could have taken care of myself! I could have kept us both safe!** **_I could have saved you!_ ** " After the bleeding from her face stagnates and he cleans it all up, he moves onto other places of her body, and she watches as he bandages up parts of her arms. When he grips and tugs roughly at her blouse, she is quick to grab his wrist and pull it away, questioning in the back of her mind why his wrist felt less like a smooth expanse of skin and more like a trail of rough sandpaper. Because she catches his wrist at the same time she glances up at him, she only notices the tinges of what appear to be obsidian scales surrounding his eyes and defining his cheekbones, not the ones that grow from his clawed hands to his shoulders. A minute voice in the back of her mind whispers what this all may mean, but it is blanketed by the louder voice, telling her to wind him down... and fast.

She watches the mouth that had grown longer fangs and had taken on sharper teeth to continue to go on animatedly in a panicked fashion before finally shouting, "Kris! _Kris!_ "

He has a startled look about him and the sound of her voice snaps him back into reality. Slowly, the scales that litter his arms and speckle his face sink back into his skin; the jade is consumed by the inky near-black of his default eye color; jagged, pointed fangs shrink and the others level out to a flatter surface before his mouth clicks shut. Once she senses that he is finally all here, she lets go of his wrist before slapping her hands onto his shoulders and gripping them firmly. "Are you alright?"

He appears almost in a daze as he stares at his hands, then at her arms that had been unnecessarily bandaged up. Tentatively, he forces himself to look up at her face, everything that had just occurred and the reason for his actions finally registering in his mind when he realizes she is not who he had thought she had been.

"God, I... it happened again, didn't it?" he murmurs, his voice back to normal. The weight of it all comes crashing down on his shoulders and he cannot bear it. His body begins to shake violently as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, taking deep breaths through his mouth. "I'm sorry... just... you should leave..."

"I can't. I _won't_." She wraps his arms around him and holds him tightly, rubbing his arms and back while murmuring words of comfort as she waits patiently for the shivering to stop. She pulls away slowly once it does, checking him carefully before her hands slide off of his arms. Delicately, she jokes, "How did you know I was going to go for my arms next?"

Though his chuckle is weak, it is genuine; she smiles, gingerly wrapping her hands around his wrists again and pulling his hands away from his face. When he musters the courage to glance up at her once again, he finds nothing but a warm grin and gentle eyes that mean to soothe.

Lillian closes her eyes for a moment, taking a breath of air before they reopen slowly. Her stare is calculating, studying him before she says, "I know you probably—no, _definitely_ —don't want to talk about what just happened, but," her hands skim down his wrists until both of his wide, calloused hands are sandwiched between her damaged, petite ones, "just know that I am here for you whenever you relapse. Now that we're alone together, you aren't actually alone anymore. Remember that, okay?"

Hesitantly, he nods once, her sincerity managing to coax him into mirroring just a bit of her smile.

"Good. Now onto more important matters: am I recognizable with the short hair, these bandages, and this huge gash on my face? I think if I pair all of these with the cloak and some torn and dirtied clothes of mine, I'll be able to get in and out of Blackburn without a hitch."

"Hold that thought." Kris closes the kit and pushes himself up on his knee to a standing position, heading off to put it away.

"You know, that isn't around our little campsite in the cave. You should show me what you keep back there."

"Maybe next time."

"When will that 'next time' even be!?"

"Who knows?"

He laughs at her little huff as he disappears, the rhythmic sound bouncing off of the walls and echoing all around her. She smirks as she watches the darkness around him swallow him up, the expression gradually falling from her face just moments later. She stares at the ground below her, the silence and absence of another presence allowing her reeling thoughts to take over.'

' _Just what happened to him and this other person before I met him? Was he hallucinating? Was_ I _hallucinating?_ '

But the one she just cannot shake from her mind is, ' _He couldn't be... could he?_ '

* * *

 "Fret not, for I have returned!" When she comes within range of his default sight, he notices she is not carrying anything in her hands. "All of that time wasted and you come back with nothing?" He notices her ruffled and torn—well, moreso than usual—clothing, and lack of bandages, raising an eyebrow curiously. "What, did you get caught an escape from a meeting with your suitors?"

"For your information, I put it all away on Buttercup's pack." She lifts her nose into the air, causing the hood to fall off of her head. "Also, do not speak of suitors in my presence. I fear it makes bile rise in my throat. The taste is quite unpleasant." She saunters elegantly to her usual seat in front of the fire. "But in all honesty, I got a little lost on the way back and got cut by the undergrowth a few times." She lifts her skirt to show him where the bandages have relocated. "The branches are hard to make out when it gets darker and the lack of trees certainly do not help. How the hell did you get rid of those, by the way? No one can make trees disappear that quickly by themselves with just an axe and shovel. Do you even own either of those things?"

"You know, you don't express complete disdain for marriage. You just seem very reluctant to do so, but it almost sounds like you would willingly marry if given the right opportunity with the right person." Kris dodges her skeptical speculation with a comment he knows will distract her. Scoffing and scowling, she regards him with narrowed eyes. "Why can't we let this subject go? Why are you so nosy?"

"Well, when all the other girls around here—and everywhere else, really—express such an intense desire to be married off, it is a bit unusual to find one that is very hesitant to do so. I just enjoy explanations for abnormalities, is all."

Lillian sighs and runs a hand through her hair, muttering under her breath, "Don't think I didn't notice that you completely avoided my question..." After a tiny huff of air is exhaled, she says, "Really, it's not that I don't ever want to get married, but I want to do so of my own volition. I want it to be someone that _I_ chose that is best suited for _me_ , regardless of social status or monetary value." She contemplates what else she wants to say for a moment, deciding to add, "All in all, I think I just want... freedom. The freedom to do as I please whenever I feel like doing so. The freedom to make all of my own choices. The freedom to live the way I want to. I am tired of having everything decided for me without anyone assessing how _I_ would feel about what they chose." She holds her face in her hands as she props her elbows up on her knees, staring at the flames that dance and cast shadows on the cave wall. "I am tired of not having a say in anything that regards me just because I am a woman, you know? And I don't care for how selfish I may sound right now."

"Rather anachronic ideals there, miss. You may start a revolution with that kind of thinking."

"Good. It would be about damn time. And I will not apologize for my language." With a harrumph, she folds her arms under her breasts and and sticks her nose into the air again, her eyes closed this time. "Just because you say something is not 'ladylike' does not mean it will stop me from doing it. I refuse to listen to men that think they know what is best for me all the time anymore. That includes you."

He laughs and shakes his head, putting on a faked frown afterward. "Not even if I have the best intentions for you at heart?"

She peeks at him through one half-opened eyelid before it closes again. "Not even if I was dying."

Both chortle at this, though she can hear his falter just barely enough for it to be detected.

"Well, I can't argue with that. I promise I will never interfere with any decision you make ever again."

"Even if that decision is running to the end of the cave to see what you're hiding from me?"

"... Okay, allow me to rephrase that. I promise to never interfere with your decisions, so long as they do not concern my cave and myself."

She considers this promise for some time. "Alright, I can live with that." She taps her chin now as she gazes up at him once more. "So what else do you promise?"

He smirks as he etches ghost lines into the stone, going along with her little game. "That I'll make the branches on the path a little more visible for you so that you won't get lost again."

"Bless your heart," she breathes in a gust of relief. "And what else?"

"To stop intentionally startling Buttercup whenever you're on her." At the reminder of yesterday’s events, she rubs her hip, wincing when she applies too much pressure to the bruise she had sustained since then. "Yeah, you'd better. And what else?"

"To keep hunting, so long as you keep gathering firewood and finding berries."

"And what else?"

"To always sit right at this very spot in the cave and wait for your return before going elsewhere."

"One more. Make it count."

He ponders carefully about what he should say for this last one, as the others had come to mind almost instantly; the first one had been said to pacify the fear that she not needed to say about never finding her way back and encountering the dragon; the second had been an indirect apology succeeding the million direct ones he had given her; the third had been more of an agreement; the fourth had been for the both of them: she had never wanted to feel that devastation again and he had never wanted to _see_ that devastation again.

Slowly, he tells her, "I promise... that no matter what... I will always keep you safe. And that, inside of this cave or out, you will never be harmed by anyone or anything."

"But myself."

"But yourself," he agrees with a laugh. "I will always protect you."

With a tinge of a blush on her cheeks, her eyes flit back down to the campfire, the smallest traces of a smirk on her face. "Huh. I kind of like that proposition. 'Always,' you say?"

"Always and forever, Lily."


	7. reveal

“Just how many things do you need from Blackburn? You’ve been going back and forth all week.” He stares up at her from his seat on the floor, watching as she pulls the hood over her head. “Says the one who leaves every single morning to who knows where,” she mutters to herself and rolling her eyes. Smirking, she glances over her shoulder at him, replying with, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, darling.”

“Please don’t ever say that again.”

She laughs this time and starts to head off before an idea forms in her head. ‘ _I still have one more day to get everything. I can risk looking a little more suspicious tomorrow with just a few extra things._ ’ She turns on her heel, facing him as she stops in place. “Hey! I have a better idea.”

“Oh dear. You’re thinking. We all know how these things usually end…”

Ignoring the jab, she continues. “Why don’t you come into the city with me this time instead?” He looks up from the carving he had been working on, meeting her stare and expecting her to have some sort of teasing expression on her face. “… Wait, you’re serious.”

“Why would I not be? You’ve never been, right? No one will even know who you are. We’ll be fine.”

“Lily, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…” She bites back the smile she had always wanted to wear whenever he would use her nickname, putting on a scowl instead. “Don’t make me drag you. And do not underestimate me and think I won’t, because, I assure you, I certainly will.” When she places her hands on her hips and beings tapping her foot, he knows she is resolute about her decision.

Reluctantly, Kris gets up with a sigh, brushing himself off before following after her. She smiles at her victory and walks with a bit of pep in her step as she leads the way out of the cave. He pauses for a moment before turning around. “Hold on. Let me put on something more suitable.” It is her turn to sigh this time as she hears him run to the back of the cave, returning a few minutes later with a fresh, white button-down dress shirt, black slacks held up by just-as-black suspenders, and shining, seemingly new dress shoes. “Wow. Someone certainly cleans up nicely.” She raises an eyebrow as she approaches him, circling around him to examine the condition of his outfit. “Aw, but now I’m the one underdressed.” She chortles, shaking her head. “Now everyone will question what a man of such status is doing walking around with such a lowly commoner.”

She chuckles and mutters amusedly under her breath about role reversals as they continue their walk out of the cave. She pats Buttercup’s muzzle as they pass her, walking in a calmed silence as they follow the path decorated by branches. Though, calling them “branches” is a rather misleading term. Just as he had promised, the branches are more noticeable now, as they are no longer the spindly sticks they had been before. Now they were whole tree limbs, the sides facing the sky having been carved into with incipherable, ancient-looking inscriptions and intricate carvings. Much like the one he had been working on.

And of course, when she had pressed him about the new additions, he had avoided the questions with honed expertise.

Upon deciding it is time for small talk before she drives herself mad with her unanswered questions about the tree limbs, she asks, “So how do you feel about your first visit into Blackburn?” When she turns her head to look at him, she sees the uneasy expression he wears. “Oh come now, there is nothing to fear! Everything will be fine.” She pauses before she adds, “And if you’re really that scared, you can always hold my hand.” She snickers at her own comment… up until he actually clutches her hand and holds it tightly.

“Whoa, what are you doing, sir? I was only joking. And you’re still five and a half kilometers away from Blackburn.” She glances down at their bound hands before her eyes flit up to his face again.”

“O-oh, sorry. My apologies,” he mumbles, appearing mildly embarrassed about how quickly he had reacted and her response to his actions. Seeing as he still looks incredibly terrified, Lillian then tells him, “If you really wanted to hold my hand, you could have just said so.” She shakes her head and grabs his hand so that they are held together again. Once contact is made, she can see the anxious creases on his face smooth out; he still appears relatively nervous, but not nearly as much as he did just seconds before.

She looks away from him then, glancing at her ballet slippers as they walk. Feeling the heat that rises to her face, she mentally curses herself for cutting her hair so short; though much of it is now forward due to her head being tilted downward, it is not enough to cover the light pink that blooms on her complexion. Luckily for her, he is not looking her way.

But that does not mean he cannot sense it.

They fall into a silence again, but when they near the end of the path to the main road, she breaks it once more. “Shouldn’t you have some sort of qualm about this? It is not a social norm to so readily hold the hand of a woman you have no relations with beyond being acquaintances!”

He chuckles at her reaction, knowing she would have cracked eventually. “I am a bit offended by your statement, miss. Surely we are more than acquaintances?” He glances at her face, noticing the fact that she is not looking at him as he speaks like she usually does, but still holding firmly to his hand. “And I am not sure if you have noticed, dear Lily, but we have not exactly followed any social norms from the start. Why would you allow that sort of thing to affect you now?”

She grumbles incoherently under her breath for a moment before huffing a “fine, I give” at him. She lets go once they reach the end of the path, peeking out into the road before stepping out and motioning for him to follow. Once they are both on the main road, her hand gravitates toward his and he takes hold of it, starting up a conversation to ease the tensions between them, though they are feeling tense about to completely different things.

The chatting helps to ease her discomfort, but as they near the city with each step they take, it does nothing to ease his. By the time the gates of Blackburn are in their field of vision and numerous carts and citizens pass them by on the road, he is gripping her hand so tightly that she emits a yelp that interrupts their conversation; she tugs her hand away from his quickly, rubbing the back of it tenderly. “Kris! Are you trying to break my hand!?”

He had been completely unaware of how much pressure he had applied to her hand, appearing sincerely apologetic through his pale, frightened pallor. “I am truly sorry, Lily, I’m just… I am reconsidering this idea of yours and I really do not think it is such a good idea now. I think it’s best if I just go back to the cave…” His stare is anxious as it is directed straight at the city gates.

She frowns, being the one to grab the other’s hand this time, pulling them both to the side of the road so they will not stop the flow of traffic. She holds him in place as she turns to face him, concern creasing her brow. “You can’t keep avoiding your fear like this. It isn’t healthy.”

“But it isn’t just a fear…”

“Whatever it is, it will not get better if you do not face it and at least attempt to fix it,” she says in a sharp, insistent tone. She studies his expression before letting go of his hand, moving so that she stands right in front of him, softening her features as he redirects his gaze from the gates to her. “I don’t want you to be lonely anymore. I don’t want you to keep avoiding others. I don’t know what it is that has affected you so horribly that you don’t want to interact with other people anymore, but you can’t let that stop you anymore.” She begins rubbing his upper arms to help him relax. “Come with me into Blackburn just this once. And if you hate it so much that I’ve traumatized you for life some more, you don’t ever have to come back again, alright?” She cups his face with her hands now, smiling.

“A… alright. He utilizes this moment to level his breathing, taking one of her hands from his face and holding it once more, motioning for her to lead the way. Once they are inside the city, Lillian stops in the middle of the road, taking a deep breath of the city air.

Kris, on the other hand, wrinkles his nose is distaste.

“Come on! Let’s stop by the city square first. That’s where they sell the newspaper. Even if you don’t live in Blackburn, it’s always a good idea to catch up on the news.” When she begins walking again, he follows behind her closely, regardless of the fact that their hands are bound together. The closer they get to the city’s center, the more people there are that surround them; the more they become immersed in the crowd, the closer he gets to losing sight of her, despite her being less than a metre away from him.

A push, a jostle, and a shove later, her hand slips out of his. He does not realize this until he pulls his hand toward himself, expecting to tug and see a girl nine-tenths his height, but being met with an open palm and empty air instead.

And it is at that moment that he begins to panic.

“Li—” Remembering that she is undercover and exposing her will just cause chaos, he swears furtively under his breath; searching for her now becomes so much harder when the two easiest options cannot be used. He glances around quickly running every which way through the throng of people, using his height and heavy stature to get the crowd to part easily. He races toward the most noticeable thing in the square besides the cathedral—Queen Victoria’s statue—praying that that is where she will be. As he nears it, he can hear a boy shouting, announcing the latest printed issue of the newspaper. His legs move even faster now, still approaching the sound but still continuing to search the crowd as well, hoping to spot a red hood atop a female figure’s head.

The issue here is that there are quite a few red-hooded female figures moving about the crowd.

When the newsboy is in sight, he sees one of these hooded figures approach the kid, quieting him. He very nearly shouts her name, but when she stands up after grabbing the papers from a stack on the cobblestone, the hood falls, revealing that she is not the girl he is looking for. Another stream of swears silently animate his lips and the shout dies in his throat. “She couldn’t have gotten here before me…” He stands two metres away from the newsboy, waiting anxiously for her arrival.

He runs a hand through neatly-messy hair, taking a few deep breaths and closing his eyes, calming himself as much as he possibly can in this situation so that he can think this over as rationally as possible. ‘ _I could always call for her… but everyone here is sure to know her name… everyone is probably searching for her… if I go into an alley, I could always… but then the people would panic and who knows where she would go then?_ ’

The only option left was to just stand there and wait.

Each time his anxiety levels start to rise, he closes his eyes and breathes, telling himself to hold off on his desperate measures. During one of these moments, he hears a very faint “Kris!” being shouted over the noise of the crowd on his right. His eyes fly open and he cups his left ear to cover it from any curious eyes, shielding them from the way it lengthens and points at the end, as well as the scales it becomes coated in. Kris listens closely for the voice, each call of his name bringing him steps closer to the source. He hurries, cursing the legs that cannot run fast enough.

When he finally reaches the source, he can see that her hood is down, back facing him as she continues to shout. Silently, he comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her into the air as he spins her around once. Once her feet are on the ground again, Lillian quickly turns to hug him, burying her face into her shirt as he holds her once again. “There you are! You had me so worried! I thought I had lost you to the city!”

If only she could fathom just how fearful _he_ had felt.

“Where did you go? I was going to go to the newsboy and wait there, but I wasn’t sure if you were going to be able to find me that way…”

“You should have. I was waiting at that statue for you for ten minutes.” She pulls her face away from his chest and her eyebrows lift in surprise before she frowns, a bit of guilt in her expression. “Ah, I really should have gone with my intuition then…” She stares down at the uneven cob before looking up at him again, smiling a bit. “Okay, let’s make a rule. If we ever lose each other again, just wait by Queen Elizabeth. Does that work for you?” He nods.

“Great! Now, I have another brilliant idea. Why not walk in front of me instead? With you leading, people are less likely to shove you out of the way; you are tall, you look foreign, and you appear really cold and… harsh.”

“Harsh?”

“Have you never seen the way you look normally? Even when you’re motionless, your face gives the appearance of a very serious, very icy person who you shouldn’t bother unless it is a dire emergency.”

“… But you don’t actually think that of me, do you?”

She cackles, garnering the attentions of those around them, should they not have already set their eyes on the pair on account of how opposing their appearances are and because of how close they are in terms of touching. When she reads his face, she can see that he is not-so-patiently waiting for a response. “Oh, that was a serious question?” She chuckles this time, shaking her head. “If you honestly think that I take you _that_ seriously… as intimidating as you look, your appearance is merely a façade that you just naturally put on. Those first few days at the cave told me so. You couldn’t hurt anyone if you tried.”

‘ _I wouldn’t go so far as to say_ that _, but you’re mostly right…_ ’

“Now come on. I have the rest of Blackburn to show you.” She lets go of him, turning him around so that she looks at his back now. “Lead the way.”

“I don’t know which way leads where. I’ve never actually _been_ inside of the city, remember? I’ve flown over it a few times, but I—”

“You’ve _what_?”

“I… it… it was a figure of speech, of course. I have a few maps of the city’s layout; by looking them over, I “fly” over the city. You don’t think I really meant that I _fly_ , do you?”

Though she believes him, something in his tone tells her that she should not. Brushing it aside to ponder later, her eyes roll, pushing him forward before snagging her hands onto his suspenders. “I’ll tell you if you are straying too far from where we need to be. It’s only until we get out of this crowd anyhow. Until we go to the marketplace, I can lead the way to everything else. Alright?”

He nods reluctantly, knowing he does not have much of a choice in the matter. “Good. Now, onward!”

* * *

 They venture high and low around Blackburn, with Lillian sharing every experience she had ever had at each landmark they stop at, whether it had been a pleasant one or not. He watches her talk so animatedly, so passionately about her city and her life that he loses focus on the actual words, concentrating more on the way her face lifts and her eyes sparkle and the subtle hand gestures she makes that involve themselves in the story as she explains it and—“Kris!”

The shout and the snapping of her fingers in front of his face pull him out of his little daze. “S-sorry, pardon me. What were you saying?”

“ _I said_ that we’re going to the marketplace now.”

He stands still for a moment until he recalls what that entails. “Why is it even necessary to go there? Have you not had your fill of this place?”

“You can never get enough of the marketplace! The sights! The sounds! The smells! _The people_! Its experience is unparallelable.”

“I question the reality of that word…”

“Hush, you. Now, let’s get going!” She steps behind him and pushes him forward before her hands grasp onto his suspenders just like before. “It’s sundown already. The market closes about an hour after the sun completely disappears, which is around ten PM. It’s around six PM now, so we’d best get a move on.”

Reluctantly, Kris drags himself to the marketplace with her as his behind-the-scenes guide. Though the marketplace is only four hours away from closing, it still bustles with the city’s citizens; the commotion that had taken place in the city square is very much akin to this one, assuming that this one is not worse. “I cannot possibly ever fathom how one is able to enjoy such… chaos.” Though he has only watched the scene before him, he has already become affirmative in his decision to not take part in it in any way, shape, or form at all. “Since you are the one that wanted to come here, I will just leave you be and we can meet at the gate when you’ve finished.”

She pouts and yanks him back her way with the suspenders when he attempts to escape. “There you go again… still trying to get out of the city as soon as humanly possible… the marketplace is also part of the tour, you know. Here, how about this: I can just show you around the marketplace, and if you really cannot stand to be around this many people, you can go wait by the gates for me. Alright?”

Though he nods, the prospect of leaving her alone is not one he finds to be very pleasant (though in truth, he does not want to admit to himself that the thought of being left to himself while inside Blackburn makes him nervous and jittery). After seeing the back of his head bob its confirmation, she smiles and tugs on his suspenders like reins. “Forward, noble steed!”

He rolls his eyes and reaches behind his back to grab her wrists, pulling them off of the suspenders before kneeling down in front of her, extending his arms out behind him. She stares at the top of his head for a moment before his actions register. “… Wait, are you telling me to—”

“Yes. It’ll be easier for you to give me directions like this. Also, in this way, I can make sure I haven’t lost you again. Hanging onto my suspenders will only do so much.”

Exhaling a sigh to make herself sound as reluctant about doing this as possible, she gets onto his back and he hooks his arms under her knees before standing up. After a small body jump to adjust the way she settles on his back, he motions forward with his chin. “Lead the way, miss.”

As they walk down the street through the mass of shoppers, she points to whichever stall they near, giving him extensive details about the functions of each stall and the proper way of bargaining with each vendor that manned it. He chuckles as he listens to the chattering next to his ear; he internally reminds himself not to put too much emphasis on the way the warmth of her breath constantly tickles at his ear, forcing himself to suppress the shivers her actions almost elicit.

“Hey, hey! Stop at that stall!” She points to one they nearly pass and he nods, making his way towards the stall adorned with trinkets and jewelry locked way in glass cases, a police officer standing to the side. After having to intentionally startle a group of bystanders to get them out of the way, they reach the stall without any other hitches; the vendor greets them warmly when they arrive, sensing that people standing in front of her stall. “Good evening! What can I do for—oh?” When she looks up, she sees the hooded figure on the back of a man she had never seen before. “Ah, it’s you! And I see you brought a friend!” She gives him a cursory glance over before her gaze returns to the girl on his back. “Is this the one you—?”

She swiftly puts a finger to her own lips before shaking her head no and her hands make a cutting motion horizontally through the air, signaling for her to end the conversation. He raises an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder at Lillian before staring in a perplexed manner at the vender. She, in turn, has her eyes flicker to his face before her eyes twinkle as she regards the girl on his back, biting her lip and winking as she puts her thumb up in approval. A vivid blush flourishes on her face when she glowers at the vendor in response, huffing. “Alright, my dear, what can I do for you? Are you here to purchase _that item_ you told me to hold onto?”

“Yes and no. I’ll pay for it now, but I’ll come back tomorrow for the item itself.” Her legs cinch around Kris’s waist (which also becomes very distracting to him for the duration of this action) while her arms let go of his neck, hands reaching down the front of her dress to grab her coin purse.

Less than a metre away, two men listen in on the conversation, watching as the coin purse emerges and noting with a glint in the eye how full it is.

They also make note of the formidable fellow whose back she clings onto.

After handing the vendor the money, she nods her head politely. Just as Kris turns to leave, the vendor yells, “Wait!” Both look at her expectantly, though one is more annoyed than the other, awaiting the sly comment she begrudgingly anticipates. Motioning with her chin to him, she says, “If you won’t, I will.” The vendor chuckles as she winks, the hooded figure’s face paling in reply. “Go. Go now before she says anything else.”

“See you tomorrow!” she hears exclaimed from behind them, followed by a cackle that makes her want to put the vendor in a chokehold. “That vendor seemed rather familiar with you… what was she—?”

“Don’t. Ask.”

The tour and her errands finish half an hour before ten PM, much to the pair’s relief. She hops off of his back once they approach the gates and they return to their handholding, though he had insisted that she had not been heavy at all (really) and she could have stayed on his back. She cuts herself off in the middle of one of her stories of Blackburn when they reach the gates. “Wait. I just remembered something. Just stay here, okay? I’ll only be a couple minutes.” A frown purses his lips, but he nods, assuring himself that he can handle it, as there are not nearly as many people walking by and coming in and out of the city as there had been this morning. “Alright… be quick.”

She is the one that nods this time before jogging off, heading back to the marketplace. On her way back, she hears two pairs of shoes shuffling behind her. Though she merely brushes off the worry that plants itself in her mind at the sound, she quickens the pace she strides at, just to be a little on the cautious side.

She arrives at the marketplace with ten minutes to spare, stopping by her favorite stand. “Mister Gar!” Because his back had been facing her, his head lifts with attention, turning his body around to look at her. “Ah, the little miss with the scar!” He smiles warmly at her. “I was wondering if you’d show up today. I saved the best ones just for you.” He reaches down and picks up a sack of apples, handing them to her. She takes them with a respectful nod of her head, adding, “Thank you.”

As she takes out her coin purse to pay for the purchase, he begins to ramble. “You know, you remind me of my best and favorite customer. Her name was Lily… well, at least, that’s what she had told us. It turns out that she’s actually Lillian Traugott! You know of her, right? The city’s heiress.” He shakes his head. “And now she’s up and disappeared! I wonder if she’s alright… I miss her quite a bit…”

“I’m sure she’s doing just fine, sir.” She smiles at him again as she hands him the pounds, but there is just a hint of solemnity behind it. “Well, good night, Mister Gar.”

“And a good night to you too, darling.”

As she is on her way back to the city gates, she tosses his words around in her head, her elated mood deflating with each passing minute. ‘ _I can’t believe I had almost forgotten about everyone… those kids I used to teach… my city friends… I wonder how they took the news… I hope they don’t miss me too much…_ ’ For a few moments, she considers returning, up until she reminds herself that everyone is on a search for her and she will just end up returning to the life she had once known, but without the ability to be among the city folk freely like before.

Her homesick thoughts are interrupted by the sound of shuffling not too far behind her. Testing the intuition she had previously ignored the first time she had heard it, she speeds up, and the pairs of feet speed up with her. Hearing that they are gaining on her, she breaks into a sprint, taking sudden turn into an alley. After doing so, she hears a male voice shout, “Shit! Find her, and quick!” With a few swears of her own, she runs now, making a maze of this perilous game of cat-and-mouse. She clutches tightly to the apples in her arms, praying that she will make it out of this alive.

With the gates in sight, she books it, daring to come out in open for the last stretch. But as soon as she does so, the shout “ _There!_ She’s right there!” is heard. Panicking, she glances around frantically as her shoes continue to slap against the cobblestone. Her eyes soon zero in on a head of sandy blond rocking on his heels with his hands in his pockets, studying the cracks in the road. Gathering what little air she had left in her lungs, she shouts, “ _Kris! Kris, come here, please!_ ” hoping he cannot hear the desperation in her voice.

He glances up instantly and jogs over to her, catching her before she stumbles over and falls from the momentum of her run. “Lily? Lily, is everything alright?”

When she hears the pattering of shoes behind her die down before they finally run off in the opposite direction, she allows herself to breathe heavily, attempting to get air back into her lungs. Now able to answer the question in the way that will keep him from fretting as much, she pants, “Y-yeah. Everything’s… everything fine. I was just… running… because you told me to hurry.” She weakly punches his arm, as if to tell him her exhaustion is his fault.

He scowls, shaking his head. “’Hurrying’ does not imply ‘burn yourself out by running there and back.’” Taking the sack of apples from her arms, he asks, “Would you like me to carry you now? I can see that socialites do not appear to get much exercise… I fear that if you take another step forward, you just might collapse on yourself!”

He receives a stronger punch to his arm this time; he laughs at the glare she shoots him. “All jokes aside, you really do look like you’re ready to collapse any second now. Are you sure you don’t want to be carried?” She nods and his brow creases with concern. Instead of offering his hand to her, he offers his arm instead; she supports herself against his shoulder once their arms are linked, tripping over her own feet a few times, but managing to hold herself up enough to walk. Slowly, she turns her head to glimpse over her shoulder at the road behind them, wary of the pursuers that she is sure linger near the gate to watch them.

A knife is added to the list of items she needs to purchase at the marketplace tomorrow.

* * *

 She leaves in the morning, not long after Kris has departed to who-knows-where. After they had returned from the city, Kris had asked her about the previous night’s ordeal, as it had appeared as she had been running for another purpose, besides the excuse of “it was for the sake of hurrying back!” Dodging the questions just as skillfully as he would dodge hers, she had ignored his insistence about accompanying her into Blackburn again, regardless of his social anxieties. ‘ _It’s not much of a surprise if you watch me as I buy it._ ’

It is the day before his birthday and she had to make her last few purchases to finalize her preparations.

After tearing out a sheet of paper from her journal, she hastily scrawls an apologetic note addressed to him and goes on her way, as he usually makes his return at rather unpredictable times.

When she reaches the city, she spends more time dallying than she had originally planned, now more sentimental about her hometown after her conversation with Mister Gar had brought about various epiphanies. She entertains the thought of returning to the city daily just like before, but under a new alias so that she can obtain some semblances of her old life, but the cold reality of the fact that someone will notice the similar speech patterns and facial features hits her.

For a while, she spends her time at Corporation Park, especially by the lake she had often visited as a child before the area had been turned into a park. She pulls at blades of grass, tearing them into smaller and smaller pieces; she takes a short nap under the clear sky and shining sun, as the nipping November wind is enough to make her shiver; she hums to herself as she plucks away at flowers to play games of Loves Me, Loves Me Not, scowling when she counts more ‘loves me not’ than ‘loves me’; she seats herself at a bench as she observes other park visitors: children that giggle and shriek with laughter as they commence their games of Hide-and-Seek and Tag (of whom she recognizes), the young and old couples from all walks of life that come for a romantic stroll in the park (of whom she will not admit she envies), the haggardly peddler or two (of whom she hands a few pounds, accompanied by a gentle smile), and the lonely dweller (of whom she represents).

Once the sky is colored a bright orange that blends into a soothing purple, she sighs as she pulls away from its reflected image in the lake. It is now time for her to say goodbye to her city, as she will not be able to visit as often after today. Earlier that day, she had nearly been recognized, and it had been by the grace of the gash across her face, the one running from the top of her right eyebrow to her left cheekbone, that had saved her.

She dusts off her skirt and heads to the marketplace, having to purchase a new knapsack, as she had thought she would have been able to carry everything back in her arms like the times before. But the items that had previously threatened to tumble out of her hands had told her otherwise. After getting the last item she had needed from the vendor that had taunted her about Kris, she spends a little more time in the marketplace, staying until the stores and stalls begin to close and the waxy moon has ascended and begun its ever-rising peak into the sky. Sighing, she keeps her brand new blade in hand as she departs from the city, twirling it around in her hands to entertain herself as she makes the trek back to the cave.

When she is around the start of the path, keeping an eye out for the decorated limb that juts out ever so strategically from the bushes, she hears murmuring… and a pattern of footsteps all too familiar to her. Turning around, but keeping both hands and the blade hidden behind her back, she calls, “Who’s there?”

Under the just-barely-adequate lighting from the moon, two figures emerge from the dark into her sights.

Her pursuers from last night.

Acting as if she does not know or remember their faces, she wears a forced, practiced smile, curtsying without the use of her skirt. “Ah, pardon me, sirs. Is there anything I can help you with?”

One of the men regards the other, cruel laughter being shared between them before the one that had appeared to be the leader of their heist takes a step toward her. “Actually, there is. Just listen and do everything we say and you’ll get out of this alive… maybe.” The two men laugh again and the discord of the noise causes her face to contort in disgust.

She ignores the fear that settles in the pit of her stomach.

“First, you can start by handing over that bag and coin purse.” He motions to her as he takes another step forward. She plays along for now, shrugging off the knapsack so that it hangs on one shoulder and pulling the coin purse out of her blouse. As she pulls her blouse down slightly to grab the coin purse that nestles at the top of her corset, she notices that the man licks his lips in anticipation; she gags internally at the action. ‘ _And if I hadn’t already known what you wanted from me next…_ ’ Once her coin purse is in hand, she takes off the knapsack completely, setting the two bags on the ground. “Good girl,” he coos. The smile on Lillian’s face had long dissipated; she rolls her eyes at his comment. “Now, I want you to give us a little show.” He points to her blouse. “Start with that.”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” she says simply, continuing to appear unfazed as she blinks blankly at him.

The man glances back at his lackey before looking at her once again. “Remember what I said earlier about following orders? Or should I remind you in a more efficient way?”

She lifts her chin defiantly, challenging him. “It’s one thing to take my items; it’s another to take my dignity.”

The man snorts and approaches her quickly, a hand extended as he makes a grab at her. “Looks like we’ll be doing this the hard way…”

Without thinking, just before the man can seize her arm, her right arm swings forward with the blade. Sanguine splatters fall onto her skirt and the road as the man screams, clutching his wrist as he watches blood run down his arm. Both she and the lackey stare at him in shock; she begins taking a few steps backward before darting into the forest. “Don’t just stand there, you idiot! Catch her before she gets away!”

The chase has begun once again.

At first, she runs along the path, but she then realizes that doing so will not only bring them to the cave, but it will also put Kris in danger as well. She changes course, making her way toward River Blakewater instead. She hurriedly pushes aside branches that threaten to obscure her view and blind her; each time her skirt or blouse snags onto a bush or branch, she yanks roughly at her clothes to pull them free, tearing them behind repair in the process (at one point, she must completely abandon her cloak because it had gotten snagged too well and would not budge); any stumble over overgrown roots she makes turns into a tuck-and-roll before she is back on her feet in less than a second.

‘ _Come on… just get to the river… I’ll be home free if I can just get there…_ ’

But in the dark of night, she cannot truly be sure about whether she is heading in the right direction.

After fifteen minutes of barreling through the forest, she slows to a stop before taking cover behind the bark of a towering tree. She puts her hand over her mouth to stifle her heavy breathing, listening closely. Not too far off, she can hear trudging of multiple feet.

“Shit, where did she go?”

“She was just here…”

“Call for her. You search over there and I’ll look around here.”

Seconds later, she can hear their shouts.

“If you come out now, I promise we’ll go easy on you!”

“You can’t hide from us all night!”

“Just give up already! You can’t take both of us on!”

She closes her eyes, moving her hand away from her mouth to breathe properly once their voices start to distance themselves from her location. She stands there for a few minutes to catch some of her breath before peeling herself away from the bark. She looks down at the forest floor, placing each step she takes on the ground carefully so that she will not snap a twig and alert the men after her to her whereabouts.

Rather focused on her attempt to make a silent getaway, she does not sense the figure closing in behind her until it is too late.

They snatch her from behind, a hand over her mouth while the other arm holds her by her waist. Instinctively, she starts to scream after biting down harshly the perpetrator’s hand, flailing wildly as she diligently attempts to get the blade to come in contact with flesh. A wounded hand grasps her wrist and constricts it until she drops the knife. Still screaming, she is turns around and the perpetrator holds her arms down by her sides. Shouting over her shrill shrieking, the voice booms, “Lily! Lillian! _Traugott!_ ”

“Wh-what?” Her chest heaves as she finally realizes who it is that had grabbed her. “O-oh my god… Kris… oh god, I bit your hand I am so sorry—”

“Don’t worry about that.” Though he shakes his left hand a bit to wave off the pain. “What are you doing so far from the cave? And what did you do to your clothes?” The disheveled condition of her everything, from her clothes to her hair, causes him great anxiety. He pushes aside the memory of a year passed, eyes trained on her. “What is going on?”

“There… there are these two… guys after me…,” she forces out of her lungs, swallowing to give a bit of aid to her parched throat before continuing. “They… took my… things… one of them tried to… rape me… I cut his hand… they’re upset…” Though she is not consciously aware of it, she sees his eyes flash jade green, even with the severe lack of moonlight getting through the canopy of leaves.

“They're the… same guys… that were after… me yesterday.”

“So when I asked you about what had happened before we left Blackburn—”

“It was them…”

A low, feral growl rumbles in his throat, starling her; her eyes widen in terror and she leans away from him subtly. “ **Go back to the cave** ,” he commands before running off.

“W-wait! Kris!” Panting, she looks around before swearing and taking off in the direction he had gone. At first, trying to tail him is significantly challenging, as the telltale signs such as footprints or broken twigs are not all that visible in the near dark. But when she hears the murmur of a conversation, she follows it to the source. When she approaches them, she shouts, “Kris, please! Do—”

Her voice catches in her throat and she takes a step backward, tripping and falling on her bottom, neck craning as she stares up in horror at the figure before her.

In mere seconds, the man she had known as Kris had shifted from a human one-tenths taller than her into a ten-metre-tall, rippling, raging, _roaring_ dragon. Though his back is facing her and he chases after the hysterically terrified men that toss her items to the ground in haste, she scrambles to her feet, rushing through bushes and narrowly avoiding slamming into tree trunks to return to the cave.

It is not until she is fumbling with Buttercup’s reins that had been tied to the tree and galloping back to Blackburn that she registers the tears that run down and dampen her cheeks.

“Everything! Everything that I had noticed! Everything that I had tried to deny! All the signs pointed to this! How could I have kept deluding myself like this!? And I knew! I knew from the start!” She clutches tightly to her horse’s reins as she leans forward. Soon, her hands release the reins and she holds tightly to the Hackney’s mane, sobbing into her neck. “And you knew all along too, didn’t you, Buttercup? All those times you became alarmed whenever he was around you; you were only trying to warn me, weren’t you? I should have listened… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

When she crashes through the front gates of her estate, the guards immediately come running, startling her horse and causing her to rear up. Because she does not make to calm the horse and she does not grasp onto the reins, she is thrown off, falling roughly on her left side to the ground. Though intense pain stings the entire left half of her body as she pushes herself off of the ground to sit up slightly, she continues to sob, but not for the injuries she had sustained.

But for the truth that had been exposed tonight.


	8. decipher

She distorts the reflection of herself in the water, her hand gliding to and fro, creating ripples in the pond. Her legs are folded beside her as she sits at the shore, surrounded by flowerbeds and trimmed bushes.

She has half a mind to drown herself in this garden pond.

Just as she begins to lean forward, Lillian hears the footsteps of a rushing maid, her panting heavy when she stops at the edge of the marble path. “Miss… Miss Traugott… your presence is… needed… immediately…”

“Well hello to you as well, Meredith. How have you been since my absence?” she asks without turning around, her hand still swaying in the water.

“Miss Traugott…”

“Alright… alright…” She sighs as she lifts herself up, brushing off her skirt and spreading the grass stains she had gained. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

“… Yes.”

She sighs once more, closing her eyes and lifting her head slightly when a chilly breeze rolls by, tickling stray strands against the skin on her cheeks, shivering slightly and rubbing at her goosebumps. Reopening them, she finally turns to face her maid, a pained smile playing upon her lips as she folds her arms, tucking her hands under them. “I suppose I don’t have a choice but to go, do I?”

Meredith shuffles uncomfortably where she stands, glancing down at the pathway instead of responding to her. The socialite chuckles bitterly, walking past her disheveled assistant, patting her shoulder as she does. “It’s alright; I don’t actually expect you to answer that. Come. They’ll need your help in making me appear at least mildly decent for our guest.”

Two hours later, she sits on a rococo sofa, a finger gently skimming along the part of the scar that is on the bridge of her nose. She then glances down at the finger pad that is now caked with foundation; she rubs her fingers together to thin out the makeup. ‘ _What in the world is so unappealing about a scar, really?_ ’

The sooner she gets this over with, the sooner she can scrub off this fish-scale filth.

As she grumbles to herself about the pointlessness and disgustingness of makeup, the double doors to the tearoom open swing open, Meredith escorting Lillian’s “ _guest of honor_ ” (as she had sneered in front of the vanity an hour prior). He stands at about the same height as Kris, with golden brown hair, wide eyes, and a smirk that just barely holds back the rich white teeth behind it. His hair is parted to the side to shape an otherwise smooth, oval face, a bit wavy to give the strands more definition. Noticing that a blazer was not on his person, nor in Meredith’s hands, tells her that he had opted to wear most of his tuxedo set; he wears a standard white dress shirt, a simple gray vest with a basic red handkerchief in the pocket, and matching grey trousers with black dress shoes.

‘ _Well, at least he isn’t flashy… though I suppose his ears sort of do that for him, yeah?_ ’

She stands, curtsying to him and wincing slightly when she is reminded of just how tightly the maids had pulled her corset earlier. “Hello,” she wheezes, quickly falling back into her seat and taking in huge gasps of air as she pulls at the dress around her ribs.

Her guest quirks an eyebrow curiously at her before he bows in return. “Good afternoon, Miss Lillian Traugott. My name is Park Chan Yeol.”

Her own eyebrows lift in surprise at just how deep his voice is, deceptive of his rather charmingly boyish complexion. “… Bark Chen Your?”

He chortles at the mispronunciation of his name, causing her face to flush in embarrassment. “ _Park Chan Yeol_ ,” he enunciates as he steps forward, taking the seat across from her. “Park is my surname.”

“Wherever is that name from? I’ve not heard anything like it before in my life.”

“I would presume you haven’t,” he replies; upon conversing with her a bit more, she clearly hears the mild accent in his speech. ‘ _Kris had a similar accent,_ ’ the back of her mind whispers, her conscious self quickly muting the voice.

“I am originally from Joseon,” he explains. “My family is closely tied to King Gojong and Empress Myeongseong’s court. We own the ports your country is currently occupying and utilizing. We also—”

She lifts her hand to stop him, sighing with boredom. “Mister Park,” she starts, using the easiest part of his name to pronounce, “if you believe that listing your credentials will make this courting easier for you, kindly reconsider the girl you are after. You can be the creator of the universe for all I care; accomplishments and successes are indeed impressive, but they are certainly not all that is needed to woo me.”

“You truly are as interesting of a girl as they claimed you were,” he comments, his half-grin rather wide. “I see you are not an unwitting pawn to your parents’ game of political marriage…” She huffs indignantly, lifting her nose in the air and folding her hands in her lap (because lifting them and folding her arms would have tightened the corset).

“Seeing as you are not at all interested in this topic of conversation, I have one that you would presumably enjoy much more. You see, the reason I am in Blackburn is not just to try your hand in marriage. I had heard rumors of a dragon living near the city for quite some time now, and I had hoped to find out more about it by coming to the source of the rumors itself. So, Miss Traugott, you would not happen to know anything about this ‘mythical’ beast and the phenomena that occurs with it, would you?”

The intensity of his stare causes her to shift awkwardly in her seat for a moment; she prays that the tension that she feels rolling off of herself goes unnoticed by him and does not tell him what he wants to know.

“With all due respect, Mister Park, a person of such class and status like yourself should know better than to believe the rumors originating from simple peasantry! Truthfully, I believe that the story is just one of those old wives’ tales.  Also, why would I know anything more than the hearsay of the common people?”

Before Chan Yeol replies, his smile returns, and for a moment, Lillian could swear she had caught his eyes flashing a fiery orange. “Well, if you were not aware of this before, I was here for over two weeks, awaiting my opportunity to speak with you like this, in this manner. But, from what I was told, I could not do so because you were missing from your estate—and from Blackburn entirely, they found not too long after—for most of those two weeks. And the day after your return, an area of the forest was found completely charred and the outline of two bodies was found in the midst of it all.” He leans forward then, head lowered and copper eyes piercing through her, knowing his smooth voice and mesmerizing stare are causing her silent will to slowly break.

“You saw something the night you returned, didn’t you? Something had to have happened in order for you to suddenly return to the estate you seem to loathe enough to leave in the first place. So tell me, Miss Traugott, exactly what was it that you saw?”

Her mouth opens, but her jaw just hangs there, her voice suddenly lost. Though she fears what Kris had become that night, he is her friend first and that monster second. Once she is finally capable of speech, she closes her mouth to clear her throat and gives him one of her infamous practiced smiles. “Why… why don’t we call for some tea and biscuits? If I recall correctly, people of your part of the world enjoy tea just as much as us Brits, yeah?”

* * *

 Lillian breathes in a large gasp of air once she manages to untie her corset, collapsing face first onto the side of her bed. “I never asked for this!” she screeches into her sheets as she balls some of the spread into her fists. After dodging a bullet with Chan Yeol during their tea time, she had to speak with four other suitors, all of which she had shown next to no interest in. Out of all of them, the only one she had wanted to know more about had been the one who had practically interrogated her about Kris, but for all the wrong reasons.

The last time she had witnessed someone’s eyes change color like that, they had turned out to be the dragon that had been terrorizing their town for years.

‘ _Years… even the elders spoke of days when a dragon attacked the city all the time… but then they said it stopped for quite some time before the attacks started up again…_ ’

While she scrubs the makeup from her face in the bathroom, her mind is racing, berating herself for not catching this discrepancy much sooner.

She pulls herself into one of her more basic dresses, one that will not crush her rubs and push her breasts up in such an unnecessary manner; she suddenly feels considerably underdressed and undone when she swings her door open and nearly slams into Chan Yeol.

The hands that break the force of impact push away the blushing face that had been buried in a broad chest.

“You seem to be in a bit of a rush, Miss Traugott. What is it that has you in such a tizzy?” He holds her out at arms’ length, brow piqued in curiosity.

“Nothing,” she grumbles as she pushes off his hands and her embarrassment. “Now if you’ll excuse me…” She side-steps him, but he is quick to block her path. “Surely your busybody nature cannot be caused by ‘nothing.’ Why don’t I accompany you to wherever you are headed? A bit of company would do some good for you, I’m sure.”

“No, it really wouldn’t,” she mutters to herself, working her jaw as she glares down at his shiny black shoes.

“I’m sorry?”

With a scoff, she pushes past him forcefully, shaking her head. “Though I am going to insist that you do not pursue me, something tells me you are going to do so anyway.” When she glances over her shoulder, she finds that he is right behind her, long legs easily keeping up with her shorter ones.

“Well, Miss Traugott, you would indeed be correct in your assumptions.” She rolls her eyes when she hears the amused chuckle that rumbles in his throat afterwards.

“Please, call me Lily. Or at least Lillian. I despise being referred to as ‘Miss Traugott’ unless necessary.” Formalities had always left the taste of bile in her mouth.

“We are moving on from formalities already? Why, Lillian, this relationship is progressing rather quickly; I have not even given you my formal proposal yet!”

She rolls her eyes once more, shaking her head as well. ‘ _And I thought all the other suitors were arrogant…_ ’

“So where exactly are we headed?” She says nothing as they continue their stroll, not even once glancing his way. Instead, she shows him, having to use a bit of effort to push open the heavy double mahogany doors, revealing an expansive library. Chan Yeol’s eyebrows rise significantly, and it is then that she turns to face him, chortling at his surprised demeanor. “Amazing, is it not? If there is anything my father is willing to spend ludicrous amounts of money on, it’s literature.” She turns again, heading inside and moving towards the Blackburn’s History section of the library.

He is not at all oblivious to this action.

“You have lived here all your life. What is there that you possibly do not know about by now?”

“Even the most knowledgeable of scholars cannot hope to acquire information about every little thing that occurs in the universe.” She tosses him a look over her shoulder before returning to the books lining the shelves, skimming the spines of the bound pages with both eyes and fingers.

Half an hour later, she is surrounded by towers of books, a notebook in her lap, and a fountain pen being twirled between her fingers. She sits on the floor, legs crossed (her maid would have had a heart attack) and back bowed as she leans over the first book, flipping through the pages and taking down some notes. By the time she has finished with the fifth book, she notices the most peculiar pattern.

 

History of Dragon

  * \- around for quite some time
  * (hundreds of years apparently?)
  * \- disappeared around 1813
  * → girl was found dead shortly before disappearance
  * → girl was foreigner from wealthy family
  * (no one seems to remember her name…)
  * \- dragon spotted about 50 years later – 1863
  * (three years before I was born?)



 

She taps the point end of the pen against her cheek in thought, staining her cheek with ink. “Something’s not quite adding up here,” she mumbles to herself as she flips through the sixth book, stopping in a place where a drawing of someone’s interpretation of the dragon is printed on one page and more text is printed on the other. ‘ _He told me that he was twenty-two… well, twenty-three now… but if he’s lived for a while, why would he say that?_ ’

After another moment of thought, she begins to scribble some basic arithmetic on her paper. ‘ _The year is 1885… he reappeared in 1863… that was twenty-two years ago…_ ’ She creases her brow in confusion, tilting her head slightly as she looks over her notebook.

“Gone in 1813, back in 1863, which I suppose technically makes him twenty-two since his most recent appearance in this city… but where the hell did he go for fifty years? This really makes no sense whatsoe—”

“What doesn’t make sense?”

Hearing Chan Yeol’s voice at a distance that is far too close for comfort, she shuts her notebook and manages to flip the history book over just before he steps into her line of sight. “You’ve been surrounded by these drab textbooks for quite some time now, Lillian. What are you up to back here?”

He carefully moves around her towers of books, visibly having some difficulties with his hesitant steps, exposing how uncoordinated he truly is. She would have chuckled had it not been for her overwhelming sense of panic at the moment.

Once he manages to scrape through the maze, he sits down right across from her; she clutches her notebook tightly in her hands, pulling it just a little closer to her body. “You still have not answered my question, you know.”

“Quite frankly, Mister Park, it really isn’t any of your business.”

Sensing her hostility, he puts both hands up in defense, chortling. “Alright, alright. I will keep from prying.” She huffs in a manner that tells him he should not have tried in the first place. “Concerning other matters… how did you obtain that? It was not there this morning.” He traces an imaginary line with his finger that starts at the top of his right eyebrow and slides across diagonally, ending at the top of his left cheek.

“It is impressive what layers of makeup can hide, isn’t it?” She grimaces at the recent memory. “It was not _the dragon_ , if that is what you presume,” she snaps, her less-than-friendly tone a side effect of the edge she is on. “It was self-inflicted. During my absence, I still wished to come into Blackburn to purchase a few necessary items, but I was aware of the fact that my parents would have had the people search for me. So, along with cutting my hair, I scarred my face to make myself more unrecognizable.”

“You are a rather crafty girl. From what it looks like, you really would have lived the rest of your days outside of Blackburn. What was it that made you come back to the life you hate so much?” Just as they had that morning, his eyes bore into her, willing her to answer truthfully.

Trapped and mildly mesmerized by his now-tawny eyes, nearly hypnotized by encouraging words spoken by a smooth, bass voice, she stammers, “I… it was because of… he was a—” Something in the back of her mind had screamed at her to cease and desist, lest she would betray the promise she had made to a friend, ultimately ruining his life. “I… I have to go!” With notebook still in hand, she scrambles to her feet, flitting off before he can pursue her and ask more questions.

He watches her leave, growling with frustration as he runs a hand through his head of hair. “Dammit! I was so close to getting her to speak! It should be more effective at midday!” He slams a fist on the floor, standing up and kicking over one of the stacks of books in anger. He then sighs, picking up book after book to see if she had left behind any clues or written any notes within the text; he comes up short, finding no trace of anything incriminating.

Just as he is combing his hair back while gazing all around the floor, preparing to give up for the day, he spots a book that rests on open pages, left untouched and unstirred by his previous rampage.

‘… _Wait. Is this the book I heard her flip over just before I stopped eavesdropping?_ ’ He thinks back to when he had taken a seat across from her, remembering the notebook she had been holding onto… and the book that had lain between them.

Raising an eyebrow, he picks up the book, his surprised expression upon skimming the contents soon shifting into a satisfied, plotting smirk.

‘ _Looks like you_ do _know a little something or two about your city’s tyrant after all, Traugott…_ ’

* * *

 After sitting up in bed, Lillian stretches with a yawn, scratching the back of her already-mussed head. She rubs groggily at sleepy eyes, looking down and blinking impassively at the ink that stains her skin, nightgown, and bed sheets. ‘ _It was for the sake of research,_ ’ she justifies with a wipe of her face.

She takes her time while she soaks herself in the bathtub, washing away all remnants of the night before, reminding herself to hide and discard her soiled sheets later. Her justification for her actions may have been enough for herself, but she knows the maids would not be as receptive to the excuse.

Emerging from the bathroom completely dressed and ready for the day, Lillian looks over the musings she had written in her notebook, rereading the tidbits she had added last night.

 

During Stay with Kris

  * \- episodes – seemed to be remembering past; someone seemed to have died…
  * → scales
  * → claws
  * → jade eyes
  * → growl-like voice *
  *    (worse than usual…)
  * \- lives in cave, no contact with anyone
  * (how cliché)
  * → traumatized?
  * \- did not attack anyone while in Blackburn **
  * → did not attack me during my stay ***
  * → did not pursue me, only men that chased me



 

‘ _From what I’ve gathered, that girl’s death almost certainly has something to do with this…_ ’ As she attempts to start piecing together the possibilities, she gets a knock at her door, stealing her attention away from her notes. ‘ _Must be Meredith coming to fetch me for breakfast,_ ’ she thinks as she walks to the door, closing her notebook.

But when she opens the door, she is not greeted by her personal maid; the notebook falls out of her hands in her moment of shock.

“What the _fuck_ , Mister Park!?”

“I thought we had moved on from these formalities, Lillian. Please, use Chan Yeol or just Chan if you cannot pronounce the latter half correctly.”

“Oh, alright. _What the_ **_fuck_ ** _, Chan Yeol?_ ”

“Now, now, Lillian. Let us not use crass language. It is beneath us.”

“I will swear and cuss as much as I _damn well_ please, thank you very _fucking_ much! Your standards concerning how I should act and what I should say are standards I do not give a _shit_ about!”

“Okay, okay, I get your point.” He sighs exasperatedly before picking up her notebook for her; she quickly snatches it from his grasp before he can thumb through it, stuffing it into the front of her dress.

“Why in God’s name are you at my door? Where is Meredith?”

“She is downstairs, along with the other personal maids, your other suitors, and your parents. The kitchen needed extra hands this morning, so I offered to get you so that Meredith could help the others.  Now come; you would not want to keep everyone waiting, would you?” He offers his hand to her, but she slaps it away, walking past him briskly without another word.

He keeps his distance as they head to the dining hall, sensing her distrust and skepticism concerning his actions. He is also able to sense that she is upset over what had occurred the day prior.

“Allow me to formally apologize for my misbehaviour yesterday.” His words get her to slow down just a bit, showing that she is vaguely interested in what he has to say. “It was entirely selfish and rude of me to press you for answers. My curiosity got the best of me, you see. My assumptions as well. I promise that I will never attempt such a thing again. Will you please forgive me for my insolence?”

Her steps had come to a stop now, body standing still as she contemplates how to respond. “I suppose… because you sound sincere enough in your apology… that I can forgive you,” she says at last. “But if you dare press me again, I will be sure to get my father to throw you out of this estate and ban you from ever returning to Blackburn.” She looks back at him, no trace of jesting in her expression. “Have I made myself crystal clear, Chan Yeol?”

“Very, Lillian.”

“Good.”

The tension visibly rolls off of her shoulders and she breathes easier, actually allowing him to walk just a little closer to her, but not so much so that he breaks social norms.

“If I may be so daring, is it possible for me to request that we start over? I want to make a more positively lasting impression on you.”

She rubs her chin in thought at this request, her decision swaying more in one direction than the other since he had not made an extreme offence… unlike the others. “Mm… fine. I’ll allow it. It would be best for you to be considerably more careful about your actions and words this time, yeah?”

“I will not let you down this time, Lily. I promise.”

Her flinch goes almost unnoticed, but the pain is evident when she chuckles weakly, her voice cracking as she murmurs, “Good. Great even.”

‘ _It appears that there is more to the story than I thought…_ ’

* * *

 “They’re leaving today, the suitors,” Meredith comments as she brushes her mistress’ hair, preparing to style the short strands as best as she could.

“Oh, are they? How unfortunate.” The sarcasm in her tone tells the servant that she is not at all saddened by this bit of news.

“That includes that Joseon boy as well, you know.”

Well, maybe she is a _little_ saddened by the news. Just as he had promised, Chan Yeol had made it so that his previous mishandling of her had seemed more like a bad daydream than an event that had actually occurred. It had been a bit strange at first; the way he would be at her door every morning to take her to breakfast; how he would give her distance whenever she would conduct more research in the manor’s library; how he would listen to intently to her as she spoke of trivial matters. But in the course of the two additional weeks he (and the others) had been given to stay on the Traugott estate, he had managed to get her to, well… fancy him. Though he had a too-wide smile; despite his nose crinkling and eye twitching every time he laughs; while his ears are considerably prominent and his arrogance had been a tad much at times, she had found it all endearing.

“So what will you do when he proposes?”

Lillian practically chokes on her own saliva then, coughing and patting her chest to clear her windpipe. “I’m sorry, _what_? Why in the world would he propose?” she croaks, voice raspy. “He has seen how unladylike and unruly I am! He could not possibly fancy that! We’ve merely become acquaintances… I know we appear to have good relations, but I do not think that they have become so well that they warrant a proposal! He does not have the audacity to even try!”

“Maybe… but the truth of the matter is that all the time you’ve spent with him has not gone unnoticed by anyone. Especially not by the Lord and Lady. You may not be able to fathom the idea, but I can assure you that there will be a proposal tonight before they all leave.”

So when she waits for him in the garden that early afternoon, Meredith’s words reel through her thoughts, distracting her enough to the point where she does not even notice his arrival.

“Lily?”

“Huh? O-oh. My apologies. My mind was… elsewhere…” Just as her body had wished to be. She is now self-conscious of everything she does and had done, her self-doubt evident. ‘ _She’s wrong… she has to be! She knows nothing… there is nothing to be worried about._ ’

When she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, he chooses that moment to ask, “Are you alright?”

She reopens her eyes, glancing up at him with a forced smile, waving him off. “Peachy, really. Anyhow, today is your last day here, correct? Let us enjoy the rest of the time we have left together.”

They walk along the path at a leisurely pace, the air filled with casual conversation and slightly awkward pauses.

“Lily, is there something bothering you? You seem to be distracted by something, and it appears as though you are unnerved by it,” Chan Yeol comments an hour after they had begun their stroll; he had decided that it would be best to address the topic during one of their lapses in conversation.

“No… yes… I’m not sure…” She groans, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes as she walks blindly in the direction of the nearest bench. Chan Yeol has to grasp her arms and steer her in the right direction before she leads herself straight into the rose bush. “Sit,” he says once she is in front of the bench.

She flops into the seat, finally moving her hands away from her face, tilting her head back to gaze up at the clear November sky. Noticing her slight shiver when the wind blows, he shrugs off his blazer and hands it to her, which she graciously accepts.

“I am going to look like a complete and utter fool for telling you about this ridiculous conversation, but I think I will feel better once we both laugh it off.” She sits up properly, hesitating before meeting his eye. “This morning, my maid spoke with me about the fact that you and the others are leaving at the end of the day. She also mentioned that we have been spending a lot of time together; undeniably, we have been together more often than not. But then, she told me the most farfetched thing I have ever heard in my life: that you might actually propose to me today! How silly, right?”

She laughs, anticipating the moment that Chan Yeol’s harmonizes with hers, but it never happens. Confused, she stares questioningly at him, a bit of fear in her eyes as she asks, “Chan Yeol, why do you not find this funny? We both know—”

“Why is that possibility so farfetched? It does not have to be… in fact, it isn’t at all.” He slides a little closer to her, leaning in as her mouth gapes like a fish out of water. “You know, I was supposed to wait until tonight to say this to you, but it seems now is a more opportune moment.” He gently grabs her wrist, holding her hand in between his larger, warmer palms.

She pales.

“Though I am sure that you know what my original intentions were for coming to Blackburn, I want you to know that those intentions have changed completely. Being with you these two weeks, you’ve shown me that everything I had been told about you was wrong. Quite honestly, Lily, I do not want to leave if it means parting from you. I want to spend just a little more time with you; if my feelings for you are any indication, I want more than just a little more time. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you to marry me, Lillian Marie Traugott. Will you accept my proposal?”

Their latest encounter mirrors their first one, in that his words leave her stunned, but also feeling as though she had fallen under a spell. When she faintly acknowledges the way his eyes had turned into that hypnotizing orange color again, she finds herself leaning in closer and closer to him, not realizing that he is doing the same. Soon, her eyes flutter shut, and a mere second later, their lips meet.

As they kiss, a flurry of emotions runs through her mind, playing out every possible scenario that could happen after this. She thinks about how this feels and how it would feel right doing this on a consistent basis, and how comfortable she would be living the rest of her life with him, and how she could grow to love him more romantically than the little bit that had already developed, and… and… and how the reality of all this is that Kris had been the only one that ran through her mind on a daily basis. Any action Chan Yeol had done for her; any activity that they had done together; she had compared every single one of them to the actions of the lanky blond that resides in that lonely cave.

She abruptly ends heir kiss, discreetly wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and clearing her throat. While he stares directly at her, she keeps her eyes trained on their hands, smoothly sliding her hand out from between his. They sit in silence for a few minutes, the pregnant pause incredibly distressing for the one that had been proposed to. She collects her thoughts, taking a deep breath to brace herself for what she is about to tell him.

“I need… I need time. Time… to think this over.” She stands, pulling off the blazer hurriedly and pushing it towards him. “I… I’m… sorry…” She gives him a broken, halfhearted smile, one that she adds a meek “heh” to before picking up her skirts and running off.

Once she has closed her room door behind her, locking it, her legs give out, causing her to collapse against the frame. Her face is in her hands as her body is wracked by sobs, overwhelmed by the turn of events. She allows the tears to stream down her cheeks, giving herself this much-needed moment to cry it out.

She cleans herself up a quarter of an hour later, muttering “God…” as she shifts so that her back rests against the door. Her eyes fall closed, her mind finally calming itself, currently in a state of strange but satisfactory serenity. When she looks around her room, she sees the notebook that rests on her nightstand. ‘ _I wonder if he’s flipped through that journal I left behind… did he find my birthday gifts? I took them off of Buttercup the day I left… how is he handling our separation? Is he irate with me? Will he forgive me if I go back? Will he do to me what he did to those crooks?_ ’ The questions that she had kept mentally buried away are now at the forefront of her mind.

To answer these questions, she knows that she would have to go to the man in question himself. But the question is: is she ready to do so?

Is she willing to face the possible consequences that come with knowing the truth?

Lillian spends the rest of the day at her desk in her room, against the behest of her maid and her parents. When it is time for the suitors to depart, Meredith becomes insistent this time, repeatedly pounding on her door and shouting at her through it.

“Miss Traugott, please! You must be present for this! It would be completely uncouth and disrespectful of you to not even see them off! Come out of that room this instant!”

“I refuse!” she retaliates sharply. She cannot bear to see Chan Yeol’s face right now. “Tell them… tell them that I’ve fallen ill!” Which is not a _complete_ lie; the illness resides more in her thoughts though. “Tell them that my monthly bleeding has begun and that I am in excruciating pain!”

“You expect me to tell them something so _vulgar_!?”

“If you tell them that you are relaying that message from me, they will certainly not be surprised by it, I assure you.”

After hearing Meredith’s sigh and the retreating footsteps that followed from the other side of the door, she cheers silently, knowing that she has won the battle. But when the steps return less than ten minutes later, she presumes she has not yet won the war.

“I have something for you, Miss Traugott. Mister Park expressed a rather strong desire before he left for you to receive this…”

“If I open this door, do you promise that you will not seize my arm and drag me out, and do you promise that Mister Park is not with you and that all of our guests are gone?”

“When was the last time I lied to you, Miss Traugott?”

“… When I was a little over a metre?”

“Precisely. Now come out here and take this letter.”

She rolls her eyes, pushing her chair away from her desk and tentatively approaching the door. She opens the door just a crack to peek through it, but Meredith does not tolerate her childish behavior, swinging the door wide open. “My word. It’s no wonder you wished to stay in your room. If you had just told me that you looked like a tornado had just ravaged your hair and clothes, I would not have had to lie and it would have been a more than plausible excuse!”

“ _Thank you, Meredith,_ ” she grumbles, snatching the letter out of her hand and shooting her a glare before shutting the door in her face.

As she walks back to her desk, she turns the envelope over a few times, then looking at the front where the words “ _To Lily_ ” are written. On the back, the envelope is held shut by a wax seal. ‘ _Rather official-looking, this envelope…_ ’ After a bit of digging through her drawers, she finds a knife, slipping it under the fold and flicking her wrist, seamlessly breaking the seal and keeping it intact. The sheet of paper she pulls out is a rich cream color; the material is thick and smoother than any letter she had ever felt. She unfolds it, jaw clenching and teeth grinding when she reads the inscription inside.

In the very center of the page, nine simple words are written.

 

_I will wait for you, however long it takes._

 

She groans, pushing her hair away from her face as she reads the words one more time. “I never asked for this!”

* * *

 Snow falls on this early February morning, recoating all that it had blanketed the day before. Lillian watches the scene from her desk, tapping her fountain pen against the mahogany structure, following each snowflake as it descends with her eyes.

It has been three months since she had last left her estate.

Three months since she had been proposed to.

Three months since she had last seen her best friend.

And in the span of those three months, her usually bubbly, snarky, active demeanor had made a complete reversal. She usually kept to herself now, residing like a shell of her former self within her bedroom or the library. The day Chan Yeol had departed, he had not only had a letter written for her, but one for her parents as well, explaining that he had proposed to their daughter earlier that day. Ever since then, almost every servant she would pass in the halls would heckle her, pressuring her to accept the proposal, berating her for her decision.

“ _You should have said yes right away!_ ”

“ _You let the only man who could tolerate your antics slip right out of your grasp!_ ”

“ _And here we thought you were sensible! You let him get away!_ ”

“I am more than aware of what I’m doing, thank you very much,” she mumbles to herself, folding her arms on the desk and putting her head down.

But is she really?

“You know what, I think it’s time for a little trip.” She immediately sits upright, forcefully pushing herself away from her desk. Once she is on her feet, she makes a beeline for her wardrobe, changing into a thicker, long-sleeved dress, layering a hooded cape over it. She finds her warmest, most comfortable pair of snow boots, sweeping her cape as she hustles herself out of her room.

Minutes later, Buttercup gallops at full speed through the forest. Avoiding maids had been rather easy when most of them had stayed in the warmth and comfort of their quarters, and the guards had been far too cold to patrol the property more than once every hour. Though the air is cold enough for her to see every heavy breath she exhales, she keeps herself lowered against her horse, eyes narrowed and hood up to endure the frigid lashes the wind whips at her.

“Stop here, Buttercup,” she says as she tugs on the reins, her horse slowing to a halt. She swings herself off, shivering and rubbing her arms as she takes a deep breath, dissipating some of the chill she had accumulated from the ride. ‘ _Should have worn gloves,_ ’ she thinks vaguely as she cups her hands together and breaths hot air into the cup, rubbing her palms together. She grabs hold of Buttercup’s reins, murmuring, “Let’s go, girl,” heading in the direction of where the path had once been.

They are lost for quite some time; Lillian is just about ready to give up hope and return to the estate (or leave herself to die in the cold; whichever one comes easier) when she trips over something wide and solid hidden in the snow, losing her grip on Buttercup’s reins and falling face-first into the snow.

Sputtering as she lifts herself up from the ground, she looks back at what had tripped her, grunting as she pushes herself up onto her feet. She walks over and kneels down beside the object, brushing the snow off of it… and gasping at what she has uncovered.

One of the marked tree limbs.

‘ _But I left… why wouldn’t he remove these? Why didn’t he burn them? Was he just too lazy to do so, or…?_ ’

With the Hackney in tow, she shuffles to one side of the path, pausing each time she had an estimate of where the next tree limb would lie if he truly had not moved them in her absence. ‘ _They haven’t been moved… at all. They’re all where they once were before. But why? What if someone else had figured out what these were for and found you, Kris?_ ’

There is another possibility as to why he had not moved them that lingers in the back of her mind, but she refuses to acknowledge it.

She reaches the end of the path a few minutes later, that all-too-familiar cave now covered in pure white. She takes a moment to gaze all around herself, the forest she had remembered as splashes of orange, green, and brown now muted by the touch of Jack Frost and the season named winter. ‘ _Has he changed just as much as the forest around him?_ ’

“Stay here, girl,” she coos to her companion, deciding not to tie her to any trees like she had before. “I’ll just be a minute. You’ll be back in your nice, warm stable soon enough.” She pets her snout and hugs the horse before turning to face the entrance of the cave, taking a deep breath and shaking off her nerves.

If she is going to die today, she will do so with the knowledge that she had done so trying to make things right.

Her footsteps echo against the stone, reverberating throughout the cave. Soon after she is away from the overcast skies, she walks forward in complete darkness, straying to the left side of the cave with her arm extended, hand skimming along the wall so that she does not stumble too much. Her ability to see returns only moments later, a campfire illuminating the area just a few metres away from her.

And right behind it sits a man with a head of sandy blond hair, eyes a sharp green instead of their usual dull brown.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise. I did not think I would ever see your face again,” he hisses, a harsh, unmelodic laugh following the comment. She does not reply as she shuffles in place nervously. “What? You gather the courage to just waltz into my domain as you please and you even have the audacity to appear before me, only to have nothing to say?”

“I’m sorry.”

She pulls herself away from the wall, moving towards the fire that sits in the center of the cave.

“Stop.”

She listens to his command, observing him closely while she keeps her expression as clear as possible so that he cannot see the fear that has collected in the pit of her stomach as he stares her down.

Though he may not be able to see it, he can definitely sense it.

“’Sorry’? Is that all you have to say to me? ‘ _Sorry_ ’?” He almost laughs at this during his pause, eyes flicking away from her for all of one second before they are pinned directly on her unmoving figure again. “You returned here, knowing the truth, knowing that I could very well kill your for what you know, just to apologize to me?”

“There’s more I have to say. I always have more to say. You know this. But I do not know if you even wish to hear it, especially after what I did. And…  and I believe you will not hurt me, despite all of what you can do.” She tries at her lower lip for a moment, adding, “No. I _know_ you will not hurt me. You can’t. You would not even _dare_ to.”

Though she does not do so intentionally, she provokes him with her words. As he stands, she closes her eyes, taking in a breath of air through her mouth.

When she reopens her eyes, she can count the number of scales on his shout, as he is only centimeters away from her face. He exhales audibly, the gust of hot air rustling her clothes and ruffling her hair. His action causes her to flinch, but she does not budge.

“ **_Who are you to say what I will or will not do? You should have never returned to this cave, Traugott. Just because you’ve apologized for what you’ve done does not mean that I will forgive you. It does not even mean that I will accept it. I hope you’ve come here willing to accept your fate; your ultimate demise._ ** ” He rears up on his hind legs, the beginnings of a roar rumbling in his throat. Smoke begins to seep through the cracks of his mouth, traces of a flame flashing through these openings.

And still she does not budge.

“You can’t! You won’t! And I know you won’t!” she shouts, hoping to be heard through his echoing growls. “I know what you’re doing! You want to scare me off!”

He emits his roar then, and she cringes in response, covering her ears. He leans in closer, roaring again and letting the heat of the flames lick at her face, searing the top layer of skin on her cheeks.

She hisses from the sting, yet she still does not budge.

Dropping her arms, she continues with what she had been waiting to tell him all this time. “I won’t leave, Kris! Not this time! I won’t leave you! That night, I… I was afraid! I was uncertain! I questioned the trust I had in you! But now I know the truth! I know you won’t hurt me!”

The thunderous rumbling stops and his head dips even lower, as if he is finally listening to her remorseful speech.

“It’s rather hard to stay calm when your dearest friend has suddenly turned into a dragon right before your very eyes, you know. And when you roared, it struck fear into my heart, and all I could think was that you would turn on me after you maimed those crooks. But the whole purpose of your transformation that night was to protect me, wasn’t it?” She begins to stroke his snout now, tears pricking her eyes as she gazes up at him. “You left those tree limbs along the path for a reason, didn’t you? Though I had no motive to return and you knew there was no motive for me to return, you left them there. You left them because…  because you believed I would come back despite everything.”

His lack of rebuttals convinces her of these truths.

“I’m glad you did. It was absolutely foolish of me to jump to conclusions so quickly. You were merely keeping your promise.”

“ **_With all due respect, Traugott, I can understand why it may have been a bit startling to see…_ ** ”

She chuckles, wrapping her arms around his snout tightly. “Thank you for understanding.” She sighs shakily as her eyes fall shut, tears spilling out from closed lids. “I’m sorry, Kris. I really, truly am. And I hope you can find it in that enormous dragon heart of yours to forgive me.”

The snout that she had once clutched turns into a sturdy torso, a pair of arms returning her embrace even tighter than the one he receives. A face rests buried in her neck, a dampness coating her skin.

“I’ve missed you, Lily.”


	9. research thing

so sorry, friends, but this isn't a story update and I apologize for that

I should have a new chapter uploaded for this story within the next week or two, so be excite!

｡◕‿◕｡

in the meantime, I should probably clarify some things about this story because many of the minor details actually correspond to actual historical things because I actually care enough about a stupid fanfiction to do all this stupid research for it ahahahAHAHAHA gonna kill myself

so let's start from the beginning, shall we

 

**once**

  * [Blackburn](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackburn) is a town in the United Kingdom, about a four hour drive south of London  
in its earlier days, it qualified as a city, but it has since been reduced to town status
  * as you probably know, those in lower classes, especially in 1885 {which is the time that this story is set in; this is during the Victorian Era}, weren't exactly literate, and so, if they saw her walking around with a book, her identity would be revealed
  * people still delivered things by horseback during this time because [cars didn't come about until around 1897](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Car#History)
  * [palomino](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palomino) [Hackney](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hackney_\(horse\))
  * don't ask me if there's actually a cave not too far from Blackburn because that part of the fic is made-up (~￣▽￣)~



 

**twice**

  * Lillian received Buttercup at age seven, meaning the horse is at least twelve years old  
average life span of a horse is about twenty-five (25) to thirty (30) years, meaning the horse is about halfway there
  * portable kerosene lanterns [were invented around the 1850s](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kerosene_lamp#Kerosene_lantern)



 

**thrice**

 

**m** **y** **steries abound**

  * the first-aid kit isn't specified as one because [actual first-aid kits weren't invented until around 1888](http://www.kilmerhouse.com/2011/05/how-a-conversation-led-to-first-aid-kits/)



 

**ambi** **g** **uit** **y**

  * [River Blakewater](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/River_Blakewater,_Lancashire)
  * as I later learned from my cousin's fiancée and her mother, even if the girl is firstborn in the family, once she is married, all of the property is inherited by her spouse and becomes his to keep even if they were to divorce  
this has obviously been changed in the law, but for a while, it was like this
  * marriage in the upper class was usually political strategy as well. it was either aim for those at your level or higher, with the latter being {obviously} preferred



 

**oath**

  * [pound sterling](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pound_sterling) is the official name of pounds (£) in the United Kingdom
  * points to note in mysteries abound to explain why the first-aid kit is "makeshift"
  * anachronism [uh- **nak** -ruh-niz-uhm]



**_noun_ **

  1. something or someone that is not in its correct historical or chronological time, especially a thing or person that belongs to an earlier time
  2. an error in chronology in which a person, object, event, etc., is assigned a date or period other than the correct one



 

**reveal**

  * [the cathedral](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackburn_Cathedral) \+ [Queen Victoria's statue](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackburn#Queen_Victoria.27s_statue) in the town centre
  * [Corporation Park](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corporation_Park)



 

**deci** **p** **her**

  * [King Gojong](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gojong_of_the_Korean_Empire) was the first emperor of the Korean Empire and 26th of the [Joseon Dynasty](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseon_dynasty); he ruled from 1852 to 1919; during this time, Korea was known as Joseon  
his wife was [ Princess/Empress Myeongseong](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Empress_Myeongseong)
  * I don't feel like going into detail about the ports thing so just take my word for it
  * snow in the United Kingdom starts around November and ends around March to April



 

I was originally gonna do all this historical mumbo jumbo at the very end once this story was finished, but wow that would take a while and I don't want to do that

if there's more, I'm probably just going to add the information at the bottom of the chapter or something

doing one of these chapters to explain context takes forever

if I missed something, feel free to let me know

anyway, that next chapter will be up eventually

maybe

who knows


	10. unravel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp this is where I stopped y'all

Her blood-red robe is a stark contrast to the pure white snow around her as she treks by foot through the forest. Though the tip of her nose and the tips of her fingers are freezing, she walks slowly to admire the work of winter around her.

And to think that she had not set foot outside of her estate before yesterday in over ninety days.

Arriving at the cave, she glances around, seeing fresh dragon footprints moving away from the entrance in the snow. ‘ _He just left, didn’t he?_ ’ She sighs, shaking her head as she walks into the cave, seeing that the fire is still going. ‘ _At least he didn’t leave me to freeze to death before he got back…_ ’ She breathes a sigh of relief before wincing at the feeling of her skin thawing after she sits in front of the flames.

“Good morning, Lily,” she hears about half an hour later, glancing over her shoulder to see a man rather than the dragon she had anticipated. Seeing no horse in sight, he frowns slightly as he steps forward, sitting down beside her. “Where’s Buttercup? You didn’t _walk_ in this cold, did you?”

She shoots him a glare as her lips form a scowl. “I did, in fact, walk here. After that little roaring stint you pulled yesterday, I walked outside to find that she’d run away. Now whenever I take her out of the stables and head toward the forest, she rears up and whinnies in fear. She’s been scarred for life and it’s all your fault.” She punches his arm before huffing shaking her head as she stares at the flames again.

Though he rubs his arm, he chortles. “I apologise for my actions. I had to make sure you were really going to stay.”

“Yeah, well. Just be glad I had not had anything to eat or drink before coming to see you yesterday.”

“So the fearless Lillian Traugott does indeed get scared! Truly, I thought it impossible! Next you’ll be twirling around with the stars in your eyes, cooing about how you’ve been betrothed and you cannot wait to be wed!”

She punches him again, but when her fist makes contact with his arm, she meets a hard, plated surface. “… _Ow_ ,” she says weakly, nursing her hand. “That’s cheating,” she grumbles, shooting him another glare.

“Your punches hurt, you know. It was merely an act of self-defense.” Lillian mutters incoherently under her breath about cheating dragons as she rubs away the pain in her hand. “So where were you this morning? You always seem to disappear around this time without explanation. Now that we seem to be doing away with all these secrets, do I have the right to know about this one too?”

She notes the way he tenses; just as she is about to offer that he does not have to tell her and that she had merely been curious, Kris sighs as he runs a hand through his hair, answering her. “I… there’s someone… I visit someone every morning.” Seeing the more than reasonably confused look on her face, he gets to his feet, holding a hand out to help her up. “It would be better if I just showed you instead.”

She nods, grabbing his hand and accompanying him out of the cave. Once outside, he motions for her to step back, switching forms in the blink of an eye.

She takes a moment to calm her racing heart and reminds herself that no harm will come to her.

“ **The place where we’re going is hidden in a thicket of trees that are impossible to get through, so we’ll have to fly. Get on,** ” he tells her as he lowers his head. Rolling green serpentine eyes at her uneasiness, he adds, “ **Don’t worry. Just hold tightly to whichever spike you sit behind. It’s safe. You’ll be fine, I promise. You aren’t my first passenger.** ” To the now-questioning look she gives him, he sighs, melting the snow in front of him into a puddle. “ **I’ll explain everything if you would just** **_get on already._ ** ”

“Fine, fine. So pushy,” she mumbles, rolling her own eyes as she grabs into a spike and hoists herself onto him, mounted on his back. “ **Hold on tight.** ” She looks to both sides as he stands on his hind legs, wings fanning out. Lifting his wings slowly until they stand vertically, he throws them down, shooting them straight into the air.

She shrieks, his throat rumbling with a chuckle.

Once he has steadied in the air, gliding along the wind at a slow, leisurely pace, he glances over his scaly shoulder, seeing how she cowers against his neck, eyes closed. “ **You’re missing out on the view, Lily. You’re fine, so open your eyes and look.** ” When she shakes her head, he sighs, nudging her with his snout. “ **Oh come now. What happened to brave little Lillian?** ” Scowling at his taught, she reluctantly pulls away, tentatively opening her eyes.

Gasping, her eyes widen as she views the world of brown and white below them, estimating they are about seventy metres off the ground. “How high do you usually fly?” she asks him. “ **Until I can touch the clouds. I would take you up there, but the air is thinner and colder, so you’d freeze to death around this time of year.** ” She nods, glancing up above herself, making a mental note to ask him to let her touch the clouds once all of the snow has melted.

Kris circles around for a few moments more before diving slowly, wings still extended but not flapping, slowing the speed of their descent to give them a gentle landing. She looks down at the clearing they are landing in, curious as to why the grass is still green and thriving, patches of flowers littering the field.

In the center of the field lies a slab of stone.

Once they land, he lowers his head so that she can jump off. “Where’s the snow? Why does it look like spring in here?”

“ **There’s a pocket of warm air trapped in here. You can feel it, can’t you?** ” She nods with a grimace as she peels off her cape and pushes up the sleeves of her dress, feeling much too warm now. “ **I also melt the snow that falls to give the plants water. I visit daily, so this place never gets the chance to die.** ” Her head tilts curiously at the change in his tone, following after him as she slithers over to the slab of stone.

“ **Hello again, Yura.** ”

Lillian glances around in her confusion, trying to figure out who he is speaking to. It is not until his snout makes contact with the stone does it all click.

This is the girl that had died before his half-century disappearance.

She follows after him, squatting down next to his now-kneeling human form, his hand running over the slab fondly, with pain evident in his gaze. She watches him for a moment longer before the scene tugs at her heartstrings, choosing to read the crude, ancient-looking inscription etched into the stone. “ _Park Yura. 1794 – 1813._ ”

‘ _... Wait a second. “Park?” Isnt’ that—_ '

“Sit,” he tells her as he now does the same, tearing his gaze away from the tombstone and looking to his living companion instead. “Before you, there was Park Yura.” He glances over at the tombstone again before staring down at the grass, plucking out a blade and twirling it around between his fingers. “I had been alone for over a decade after my reincarnation before Yura found me.” She observes him with a great amount of curiosity now, questions already forming in her head. “She was from Joseon, she had told me when I found her. Her parents were here in the United Kingdom on business and she had followed a group of kids into the forest to play with them and she had gotten lost along the way. When she told me about how far she had travelled to be in this new, foreign country, I knew exactly how she had felt, as I had come from somewhere far away as well. We talked for a bit, and when she found out a ‘child three years older than her’ had been walking around in the forest all by his lonesome, she tried very passionately to get me do return with her after I led her back to Blackburn. I had to lie and tell her my family and I had intentionally isolated ourselves from the city and lived out here to get her to leave. I also had to have her promise not to tell anyone about me.” He chuckles at the memory, shaking his head, remembering how pushy she had been.

“During her stay, she came to visit every day and we would play together… the day before her departure, she told me her parents would be leaving her here so that she could better learn about this culture and language, ultimately allowing her to benefit from it when she grew up and when she would later be wed off; from the looks of things, she was going to be married into the Irvine family, which had been the family her parents came to Blackburn for to make business deals with.” ‘ _Oh, I know that family… pappa once talked about trying again to make business deals in Asia since it had been over half a century  after “the incident”… Is this what he was talking about?_ ’ “So her occasional visits continued over the years… she was fifteen when she found out my other self. And of course, she assumed the same thing everyone else did about that senseless myth: that I was a murderous machine and would kill any human in sight. Unlike what happened with you, I chased after her, which did not make matters any better; I had forgotten to change forms, so she had assumed that I was about to make her my next victim. I didn’t see her for six months after that.” He runs a hand through his hair, expelling some of his distress through a gust of air.

“Once she had returned, I told her the truth about everything, and she put the pieces together, finding out that I actually lived alone and that I always had. She made it a mission to see me every single day after that, even if she was going to be reprimanded for it. As you can imagine, we only grew closer still. Despite the fact that we knew she had to abide by her parents’ wishes and there was no way we could be together because of what I was, we… we grew to like each other a tad more than we should have.”

“You fell in love with each other.”

Lillian’s words cause him to flinch, as if hearing the words inflicts pain. “I was the first to say it; it was shortly after she turned seventeen. She reciprocated two days later. The secret friendship we had sired had suddenly become a covert affair. And when her maids took notice to the wistful way she would return and her encoded mannerisms in speaking about our relationship, they informed her caretakers, who then restricted her ability to venture outside of their estate. But she would still find ways to sneak out and come by at least once a week. This went on for quite some time until the Irvine family started to aggressively try to have Yura and their son at least tolerate each other before being married… I started seeing her less and less, and soon, I was lucky if I could even see her once a month.

“On her twentieth birthday, she sneaked out to celebrate it with me, telling me that she had something to tell me, something that she had been keeping a secret, but for the first time, she had made the mistake of becoming careless; the Irvines’ son had followed after her to find out who she had been seeing behind their backs once and for all. Neither of us had noticed him, so not only did he see me, but he bore witness to my transformation as well. When Yura returned to town, she saw the mob that had formed during her absence and hurried back to tell me about it, and to run. But I couldn’t. Not only was I bound to Blackburn, but I could not bear the thought of abandoning her. So while I sat there, doing nothing to stop her and protect her as I thought frantically about what to do, she decided she would go and buy me more time to ‘run away’; she figured that my insistence about not leaving would ebb away if she lied and told me she had indeed fallen in love with the Irvines’ son and consummated their relationship, which was why she had been gone for so long. The mob, following the Irvines’ son as their leader, did not take kindly to her, seeing Yura as the one who brought this monstrosity upon their town, about how she was aiding the devil; they told her that she had been charmed by me and that I was using her as a pawn to ultimately destroy the city: first from the inside, then to exert my own wrath upon them.

“Once I finally came to my senses, I went after her and searched everywhere for her; my blood ran cold when I heard a gun sound off in the distance. I found her broken body bleeding on the grass a few minutes later.” Kris’s voice had cracked tremendously at this point and a silence had fallen between the two as the memory had continued to play in his mind.

{ _He ran over to her mutilated form, hurriedly but carefully gathering her body in his arms. “Yifan? What—I thought I—You—”_

_“ I told you, I refuse to leave without you.” His voice trembled; he had to clench his jaw to keep himself from losing control._

_“ The townspeople… will find you… if you stay here,” she murmured, eyes blinking slowly as she stared up at him. Her face contorted in pain and confusion when she felt herself being lifted, the dragon boy running swiftly through the forest and to his cave. She watched as he disappeared deeper into the cave, working frantically upon his return. “ **What purpose was this for!?** ” he roared, hands moving deftly as he cleared her face of blood and dirt. “ **Did you want to be a martyr!? Is that it!?** ” He was quick to wrap up the wounds on her arms, switching gears to take care of the main problem: the huge, gaping gunshot wound gushing on the left of her stomach. He tore off her blouse, his eyes wide as he saw the pond of sanguine that ruined the expanse of otherwise porcelain skin. It was so much worse than he had thought. _

_‘_ He always had the prettiest green eyes _,’ Yura thought vaguely, her vision framed by black._

_Though he plucked the bullet fragments from the wound and cleaned it completely, he could not get the bleeding to stagnate, no matter how much alcohol he had applied (making her scream) and no matter how tightly he wound her bandages (making it harder for her to breath). Her already-pale skin was becoming clammy; she was losing too much blood._

_He was losing her and there was nothing he could do._

_“ **I didn’t need you to save me!** ” he shouted in his frustration as he unwrapped the bandages, the cloth futile. “ **I could have taken care of myself! I could have kept us both safe!** **I could have saved you!** ” And it was his last statement that caused him the greatest pain. If he had not dallied, he could have saved her from getting shot. If he had not dallied, she would not have been able to run off in the first place. _

_“ Yifan,” she murmured, reaching up to stroke his cheek, eyes closing when she felt his ever-so-warm tears fall onto her far-too-cold skin; the feeling was quite soothing, contrasting the intense pain coming from her abdomen. “Promise me… you won’t hurt… anyone for this… okay? They were acting… out of fear. And don’t blame… yourself for… what happened.” She had to take pauses the catch her breath, talking through the wound taking quite a bit out of her. “I never… actually did anything… with the Irvines’ son, but… you probably already… knew that.” She chortled breathily, partially regretting it, as she groaned from the sharp pain it created in her abdomen. “I still love you… Wu Yifan… and what I… really wanted to tell… you was that… was that…”_

_When he felt her body go limp in his arms, he pulled her closer, pressing his face to her neck as his body wracked with sobs._

_She was gone._ }

He feels her fall into his lap, her arms wrapping tightly around him as she gently rocks him from side to side; he reciprocates the hold. “You really loved her, didn’t you?” she whispers, rubbing his back with her hand in clockwise circles. When she feels him nod, a sharp pain stabs at her heart, but she brushes it aside for now.

“You can cry, you know. You did yesterday,” she jests, smiling a bit when he holds her tighter, the dampness that coats her neck and runs down to her collar bone following shortly after. She presses her cheek against his hair, eyes closed as she murmurs words to soothe him, pulling away tentatively once he has calmed down. “I’m sorry.” She musters the best sympathetic smile she can, knowing he is hurting more than she can possibly imagine. She looks over at the tombstone, then at him, tacking on, “She sounded like a very beautiful person… is that why you panicked when I cut my face?”

He nods, adding very quietly, “You looked exactly like her after you cut your hair.” Though he had not meant for her to hear that, she does, the sharp pain in her heart returning.

To distract the both of them from the topic of Yura, she asks, “So you said you were reincarnated and bound to Blackburn… I thought only phoenixes reincarnated? And why are you stuck here? Are you cursed?” He shakes his head. “I am not… but I may as well be. I’m your city’s guardian… and there is a task I must fulfill before I can return home.” She stares at him, blatantly showing how puzzled she is. “I will not go into details, but essentially, we have been at odds with the other mythical beast you named earlier not long after Yura’s death. We were already on unstable ground, but the incident, it… it worsened our relations. Dragons are assigned to areas were we believe a phoenix will strike, as they are known to intentionally cause chaos, as they get bored with their ability to live forever. Dragons are slightly different with the way we reincarnate. We do not have the ability to stop aging—we can only slow it down a little—so when we die, the energy assimilates into a new life with a new name and a new appearance. The only things that remain are the memories of the life that came before and the knowledge they had acquired.”

Lillian stares at him with amazed bewilderment. “So what is your average lifespan then?”

“About two hundred years.”

Her eyebrows lift even higher before furrowing in confusion again. “Wait. You said you cannot completely keep yourself from aging… I did some research on you after I left and in what I found, it said you went missing for fifty years. You still look as though you have not aged since you left. Where did you go and why haven’t you aged?”

Kris rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Well, because of the fact that I was indirectly responsible for Yura’s death, I was to blame for our ruined relations with the phoenixes. As you can imagine, the higher-ups were not too pleased about that. To spare you the details, the punishment was that I lost my form as a dragon, and as a human, and was left in isolation for half a century.”

The expression on her face had shown how utterly horrified she had become at the thought. “That… that sounds rather harsh…” He shrugs, lifting her off of his lap so that he can stand, changing forms. “ **I killed her. It was only fair that I suffered in the worst way possible.** ”

When he sweeps her up with his tail, she takes the hint, getting up and following him as he walks away from the stone, lowering his head for her. After they take off, she keeps her stare focused on the shrinking patch of green, studying the dot of slate grey.

‘ _From what he shared, it's almost as if I am_ her _reincarnation… am I merely your replacement Yura, Kris?_ ’

* * *

 “Oh, good morning, Lily. I didn’t think you’d come by today… uh, Happy Valentine’s Day, I suppose… I would apologise for the lack of roses, but I’m sure your suitors will take care of that.”

“The correct phrase would have been ‘happy birthday, Lily.’”

Having walked past her, he freezes in place before turning to face her pout. “Wait, what?”

She huffs and fold her arms under her breasts (he tries not to take notice of this), lifting her nose into the air. “And to think that I wasted all those pounds and all that time on your birthday gifts… and you have the audacity to not even get me _one_ …”

“You didn’t exactly inform me of this, you know. If anything, it’s your fault for not telling me about it.”

“Blaming the victim, are we?”

He groans.

It had been two weeks since their friendship had been rekindled and Lillian had come by every day since them, pestering him in the same way she had before she had left… and so far, Kris had been questioning whether he had _truly_ missed her during her absence.

“I apologise for my insolence, Lady Lillian. Is there anything I can do to possibly make it up to you?” he almost sneers, the cynicism thick in his tone.

“Actually, there is.” She smirks as she gets to her feet. “Follow me.” He stares at her skeptically, but he does as she says. Once they are outside, she announces, “If you really want to make it up to me, you can accompany me back to my estate.” He looks at her incredulously, ready to protest. “And fret not, my scaly friend. My parents are not home to celebrate with me,” her voice bears a tinge of pain, “and the maids will not rat me out. It’s my birthday after all.” She turns to face him with a smile. “So, what do you say? If you don’t agree, I’ll keep guilt-tripping you until you do.” She places her hands on her hips (he tries not to take notice of this either) and he stares at her impatient form, knowing she is not going to give him any other choice. “Fine, fine.”

Delighted, she claps her hands together, leading the way to her estate. “I’ve never had a friend to celebrate my birthday with after I turned fourteen. It was always ‘celebrated’ with men my parents wanted to me to consider… I’ve grown so sick of the cards and the flowers and the chocolates…”As she rambles on, he watches her, remembering how she had been this very same way when he explored the city for the first time with her, face lifting as she shares how happy she is about spending the day with a good friend and the twinkle in her eye as she thinks about all the things they can do together and the way she tucks her hair behind her ear nervously as she slows and her lips murmur, “Kris?”

He snaps out of his daze, bringing his attention back to her words. “Hm?” Though he does not realise it, he is as enamored with her now as he had been then.

“You were staring so intently at something in front of me… is something wrong?” He shakes his head, motioning for her to lead on. “Well, okay…” Lillian remains unconvinced, but she goes on anyway.

Once they reach the estate, Meredith greets them with a bow, in on her Lady’s antics. “Good morning, Miss Traugott, Miss Traugott’s friend.”

“This is Kris. He’s the friend that lives outside of Blackburn that I had stayed with during my three-week absence.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” he says with a polite bow. Looking him over, Meredith then turns to Lillian, nodding with her approval. “Ah, so this is who you would escape to go and visit. Well now, I can certainly see why!” She winks.

“Goodness gracious— _Meredith!_ It’s not like that!” the socialite vehemently denies as her face blushes a violent red.

“Do not worry, Miss Traugott. I will see to it that no one speaks about your ‘friend’s’ visit today.”

“Out! Out, out, out! Get out! _Leave!_ ”

Her maid curtsies before chortling as she walks off, leaving behind a flustered Lillian. “God, I can’t believe she… as if I… as if _we_ …”

“Lily?”

“I’ll show you around the estate first, then we can stay in the library. It’s the warmest place in the manor and you’ll love the books there.”

They finish the tour about an hour and a half later, the pair sitting in front of the fireplace in the library shortly afterward. They sit in silence for some time, both reading their own piece of literature, before she decides to speak up first. “I forgot to ask: what did you think of your gifts? Were they adequate, or should I try again this year?”

He chortles, shaking his head. “They were quite grand, thank you. The clothes were especially appreciated. Though… the thieves broke the music box.” Both frown and he sighs. “I tried to repair it, but it does not hold when I weld it together. But that’s quite alright. I enjoyed what you wrote in the journal the most anyhow.”

She blushes and plays with her hair unconsciously, suddenly paying no attention to the words below her. “O-Oh. That. W-Well, that’s good… I guess. It was hard keeping you from looking over my shoulder. You’re very nosy.” She glares at him when he laughs, huffing. “So what did you do with it all? Did you put it away with everything else at the end of your cave? What do you keep back there anyway?”

“Dragons are known for hoarding, you know; I have quite a few things back there: clothes, supplies, treasures… bodies…” Her face remains mildly interested until the last item he names, giving him a look of terror. Laughing again, he says, “The last one was a joke, Lily.” Seeing her stare of skepticism, he adds, “If you really don’t believe me, I will show you the next time you come over.”

“So tomorrow then. I look forward to it.”

* * *

 After her birthday dinner and cake (of which Kris had swiped some of the frosting from before wiping it on her nose with a laugh), the pair head to her room. Because night had fallen, she carries a candle ahead of herself as they walk, lighting the other candles in her room before sitting at the edge of the bed. “Thank you for being here today,” she tells him with a soft smile, studying the hands that lay in her lap. “If it weren’t for you, I would have celebrated my birthday alone. I’m glad I got to spend it with you, even if spending the day together is something we already do on a daily basis. For once, I did not _completely_ hate my least favorite holiday.” She chortles before lifting her head to grin at him. “So again, thank you.”

Getting up to head to her bathroom, she says, “You can go home now, if you’d like. I’d also welcome you to spend the night here, but I know you don’t like being away from the forest for too long, so…” She shrugs as she walks toward him. “Good night, Kris.” Hesitating, she tiptoes before kissing his cheek and scurrying into the bathroom, quickly shutting the door behind her.

When she walks out half an hour later, she hums to herself as she holds her towel with one hand, searching at her desk for her ribbon to tie her hair back with the other. It is not until she turns around after finding it that she realises that he is still in her room. “Wh—I thought—Shouldn’t you have—” She fumbles with her towel, nearly dropping it in shock.

His hands trap her in between the desk and himself, the candlelight barely exposing the way her entire face had flushed with pink; he can hear her rapid heartbeat quite clearly with how quiet the room had become. “I… also read… what you wrote in the back of the journal,” he murmurs slowly, observing her expression carefully. Her eyes grow wide and she mentally curses her nineteen-year-old self, ready to die from mortification. “So tell me, Lily… how should I feel about it? What should I do about it?”

“You should… uhm… I didn’t… uh…” At a loss for words, she stammers, closing her eyes tight as she pretends that this is not happening. To end her unintelligible bumbling, he kisses her, causing her to go slack underneath him. Before she could register what was happening, he had picked her up, placing her gently on the bed after breaking their kiss.

“Kris?”

It was that voice he had wanted to hear tonight, his name said with that same sort of breathlessness, spilling from her lips over and over.

* * *

 He traces the scar that runs across her face with his eyes, not realising his actions had assimilated to his fingers until she stirs from his touch. Not wanting to wake her, he tucks her hair behind her ear before carefully and quietly sliding out of her bed, just as carefully pulling his clothes back on. Studying her for a moment more, he pulls the sheets higher when she shivers from the lack of warmth, frowning slightly when she unconsciously registers that he is no longer lying next to her. Walking up to her window, he breaks the frozen sealant closing her window with ease, throwing it up and slipping out, but not without one last glance at the figure sleeping soundly on the bed.

What had happened last night had been completely accidental and the result had been the thought that had once merely nagged at the back of his mind had moved to the forefront, overwhelming him and consuming him with guilt for his actions.

Who was Lily to him, really? Lillian Traugott or another Park Yura?

**Author's Note:**

> so basically yes Lily is the reincarnation of Chanyeol's dead sister  
> the way this was going to progress was that she and Kris start asking each other a lot of questions about where their relationship stands and ultimately get into a fight about how she feels replaced and tbh Kris doesn't know what to make of it but he DOES know that he likes Lily for Lily and not just bc he knows she's a reincarnation {yes he knows about this}  
> Lily's parents start getting really suspicious about what the hell's going on bc she would run off then stopped completely and is now doing it again and they're super worried/concerned so they start getting someone to tail her  
> they find out about the dragon the same thing that happened with Yura happens basically again but PCY is in town again so now he's going and having a square-off with Kris for VENGEANCE {PCY is the phoenix if you couldn't tell} and it gets messy and Lily gets caught in the crossfire trying to get Kris to leave so he doesn't die {just like Yura omggggg} and almost dies but luckily doesn't so that's bueno  
> and tbh that was about as far as I got before my mind went blip bc this story was actually just me using a rough outline I made before I started writing and then kinda generating ideas as I went along so  
> if someone finds inspiration in this story and decides they want to finish where I left off feel free but lemme know and credit me/link back to the start here of course lol
> 
> {oh also Yura was preggo but she died before she could tell Kris and also obvs baby is ded lol...}
> 
> [personal twitter](http://www.twitter.com/lesimperatrices)  
> 


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